Hero's Song
by Avariel600
Summary: Harper isn't exactly hero material. She's a bard, a good one, and has spent most of her life blandishing tales. But when her village is attacked and she is sent down a track of danger and adventure, she realizes the songs might not have covered it all.
1. Kidnapping

I sat happily in the mud as a virtual torrent of rain battered the forest around us. Water sluiced off the hood and shoulders of my oilskin cloak, so at least the important bits of me were dry. I didn't care, either way. For the first few moments since Bevil's panicked voice had broken my conciousness that fateful night weeks ago, I was just...not doing anything. The rain had been beating us so badly that Bishop had finally conceded we'd have to stop, or else we'd be sinking in mud. So we found a reasonably dry spot to stop and huddle up in; although with reasonably dry meaning any spot that didn't have fish swimming in the puddles yet, we were soaked to the bone within minutes. It was glorious.

Khelgar sat close by, muttering profanities under his breath, and Casavir was beyond him, silent as stone. Everyone was huddled in the universal I-don't-want-to-get-wet pose; except for me. With my legs stretched out as far as they would across the ground (which is damn far...for a female elf at least. I very nearly met Casavir's shoulder, and that man was _tall. _), I was definately taking most of the mud with me when we finally got back to moving again. I sighed contentedly, feeling the growing knot of tension that had seemed to settle permanently between my shoulder blades ease somewhat, and leaned back against my tree trunk, letting water trickle down over my face. Maybe if I looked dirty and disreputable enough, the world would decide I just wasn't important enough for all this fuss, and let me alone?

Huh. Of course I knew it wouldn't happen, but damn it all if I hadn't had some sort of pleasant future ahead of me before all... _this _...happened. I mean, I could play a mean fiddle; the kind that could make your eyes stream rivers one moment and then your feet start dancing as if flames were snapping at them the next. And the heart-rending tales I could weave would have you sighing for your lost first lover in no time; you know the one I'm talking about. And if you didn't have one? You'd be wishing it was me.

But now people were dead. A lot of them. I'd killed a lot myself over the past few weeks, true; I was getting pretty good at it. And I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that, but put a scimitar in each of my hands, and there's wasn't much that could keep you alive past that. Unless you were on my side, of course. Although this time it hadn't quite worked out that way...someone on my side was about to get hurt, pretty badly, if we didn't get to her first.

I opened my eyes to make a check on the weather, only to find Bishop watching me from under his hood. He didn't say anything or move when he caught my eye; just watched, like a wolf when they know you've realized they're there, but they haven't decided to kill you yet. We just looked at each other for a few long moments, and when I finally felt like I _had _ to say something (bards usually do) he glanced at the sky and stood up.

"Weather's clearing. Come on, we have to make up for lost time, and the trail's going to be harder to see after the rain."

I stood up, shrugging my pack (oilskin-lined, thankfully; otherwise my fiddle would have drowned by now) onto my shoulders, and fully realized the consequences of sitting straight-legged in the mud as my clothing clung to me in a wet, sticky mess. I braced myself for miles of dirty water running down my legs with grim determination. That knot between my shoulders was tightening again.

As we began moving, Neeshka said to me, "Is this a new ploy to keep my fingers out of your pockets, Harper? Filling them with mud?"

I grinned at her, wanting desperately to lighten the mood. "Maybe. If it works I'll start doing it more often."

She grimaced. "Then you and Elanee can finally have something in common!"

Khlegar snorted with ill-supressed laughter in front of us, and I rolled my eyes. Casavir glanced back at Neeshka dissapprovingly; the paladin had a lot of respect for Elanee and didn't like it when we teased her. Which was often. I caught the worried crease of his brow before he turned away. I knew what he was thinking almost automatically; Shandra. He seemed a little sweet on her before the githyanki snagged her, but maybe it was just a paladin thing. They got so emotional when people were in danger, all that smiting and fighting for righteousness.

Not that I was much different. I liked Shandra, and I felt pretty rotten about all the trouble we'd brought into her life. In all fairness, the githyanki probably would have happened to her whether we had ever met her or not, but the other stuff...well, we didn't techincally burn her barn or house down, but we didn't help matters either. I'd felt more than a little obligated when she'd been taken; just throw out the nonsense about us needing her help for a second, because saving her was the right thing to do. And despite usually thumbing my nose at the law, I knew what was right and what wasn't.

A few miles of walking brought us abruptly to an extremely tiny village. West Harbor was Neverwinter in comparison. The rain had stopped half an hour before and there was a stuffy, claustrophobic stillness in the damp air that was beginning to make my spine crawl. I shut the door on my other thoughts and looked around at the village, paying attention.

"This doesn't feel right," said Bishop softly, to my right. Khelgar moved closer to me so that he had our reaguard fairly well covered, and I was slightly amused to see Neeshka and Casavir move closer together.

We were silent for a moment, and then it hit me, like Daeghun's forefinger thumping me across the forehead when I wasn't listening to his teachings. "There's no villagers, you're right. Or animals," I whispered. "What kind of farming village like this doesn't have a damn cow in it?"

Bishop blinked, and stared at me for a moment. "You're right. Good eyes. "

_And good memory_, I thought to myself, almost feeling the phantom throb of pain across my forehead. Bishop glanced out across the town. "This doesn't bode well for us, I'd gamble on it. We can't just rush in there."

They all looked at me. Bishop had been leading us thus far, but just as I had been enjoying the temorary lack of responsibility, the reins had been thrust at me again. I could feel the weight of their gazes, and instantly wished I was back in the mud. i _Right_/i I thought grimly; sometimes you just have to bite down and yank the arrow out, don't you? "We go carefully," I said quietly. "Just follow my lead and do _not_ stray from me. We'll take this slow."

And very delicately, I gripped both handles of my twin scimitars and unsheathed them.


	2. Just a small, harmless village

"Take it slow, my black and blue arse!" announced Khelgar. "That damn ambush nearly finished us!"

I paused in my bandaging of Neeshka to stare incredulously at him. "_You're _complaining about getting into a fight?"

He grumbled as I lifted Neeshka's arm to secure the bandages, ignoring her protests. "These githyanki don't fight fair, is all I'm saying. Magic just isn't for decent folk."

"Yes, I'm sure the murdering, kidnapping githyanki will be heartbroken when they hear what you think of them," I quipped, and helped the tiefling to her feet. "All good?" I moved to Bishop. "You all right? I saw one of them stick you in the ribs..."

You see, when I'm fixing people up, its all about business. I could see him holding his side, and so I reached out and lifted his hand away, no nonsense and don't even think about arguing. I think he managed "Hey, wha-" before I fixed him with a _look_, and took off one of my gloves, frowning at the gash in his side.

"Gods, that's a pretty good one. Here, hold still; you don't mind magic, do you?" I gently pressed the palm of my hand against the wound, and whispered the age-old incantation for a decent healing spell. It sounded musical, whenever I said it. Must be the bard magic; when Casavir said the words, it sounded different, like peircing sunlight translated into speaking.

I could feel the energy knitting his skin under my hand, and the hairs on my arms stood up as the magic built up in me for just a second, before releasing down my arm and into the wound. I pulled my hand back. Perfect! I smiled slightly at him and wiped his blood off of my hand against my leather pant-leg in a very un-ladylike fashion. I'd had worse than blood and mud on my clothing lately, and was grateful that's all was there.

"Hmph," He said, those dark eyes of his ever watchful, then nodded, ever so slightly. "Thanks. Got a spell to mend shredded leather?" He looked down at the hole in his armor in disgust.

"'Fraid not. As useful as that would be, I don't know it. Not quite sure if one exists or not." My own aches couldn't be ignored any longer, but I was too exhausted to cast another healing spell; Bard magic was a little limited, as it were. I had resigned myself to walking the few miles we had left in some moderate amount of inconvenient pain when Casavir came up to me.

"You're hurt too, my lady. Hold still, I should have enough left..." He placed both hands on my shoulders, closed his eyes and began to pray. I glanced at Neeshka and Khelgar, the former who was snickering, and shook my head. And then...aahhhh...sweet magic, thank you for existing. Wounds closed, aches vanished, and I sighed in relief. "Thanks," I said. He stepped away from me quickly, and I noticed he avoided looking me in the eyes, a faint tinge of pink on his face.

Bishop was fidgeting impatiently; he flashed a scowl at Casavir. "If everyone has all their parts back together now, we need to move, or else we'll never get that farm girl back."

"Hello?" A shadowy form stepped out of one of the nearby doorways, and I turned, hands flying to my blades. A woman, looking to be in her mid-thirties, stepped timidly out into the open and nearly tripped over a githyanki corpse, stumbling over to us. She looked at me helplessly, her eyes wide. I recognized that look, and my insides cringed.

"Are you...are you looking for that woman?" She had her hands clasped tightly in front of her, and she stared into my face...down into my face, since she was human, and almost as tall as Casavir.

I felt a quick flash of anger. This woman was strong, hardily built, larger than me, and if I could heft _two_ swords at once then she could definatly hold at least _one _blade. _Or maybe a frying pan_, the darker part of my thoughts sneered. And yet she was cowering in her house, letting the gith ambush us while we were almost butchered? This was _her_ village!

She saw the flame smouldering in my eyes, and took a step back. She continued speaking. "Th-they took her, north of here. Left by that gate, and not even twenty minutes ago. Please...I know her, her name is Shandra. You have to get her back."

"That's what we intend to do. You'll be all right, now?" My voice was clipped and cold, but the woman smiled at me in relief.

"Yes, thank you so much! My name is Alaine. You saved us, we would have-"

"Yes. You would have, wouldn't you?" I turned away from her, and looked at my companions. "We need to go."

Bishop glared at Alaine. "Next time, you should die before surrendering to the githyanki, woman."

"That's no way to talk to her, Bishop! Would you have them all dead? They couldn't have defended themselves!" Casavir's hackles were up, and I felt his aura from even where I was standing. Oh boy...

Bishop stared coldly at Casavir. "I would have them fight at least, Paladin. You know, sometimes helping the weak just _keeps_ them weak." He gestured to the village, and Alaine's horrified expression. "We've wasted enough time on this worthless village."

"They'll be moving fasther, and leaving a smaller trail," I mentioned. "Probably thought this ambush would take care of us."

Bishop snorted at me. "Huh. At least you've got some brains inbetween those pointy ears of yours."

Khelgar stepped up to my side, and stayed there as we made our way out of the village. He nudged me, and I bent down slightly so he could speak in my sharply pointed ear. "You know," he grumbled, "those two seem to had a wired nerve when it comes to you."

I glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

He grinned crookedly, baring missing teeth. "I know ye aren't daft, lass. The paladin's always quick to jump to your aid, and the ranger can't keep his eyes off ye. You think I was born yesterday under a rock? You just better watch yourself, ye hear? I've got your back if ye need it."

He sounded a little worried at the end. My skin tingled; I glanced back at the two now-sullenly-silent men walking behind us, and I could feel my face flushing. Hurriedly, I said in the most non-concerned voice I could muster, "A dwarf protecting and elf? What would your clan think?"

"Bollucks what they think, girl. You keep an ale down better then half o' them. I remember this one time..."

I glanced up and stopped in my tracks. A boy stood there, watching me. He was obviously a villager, but with nothing of Alaine's panicked demeanor about him. He said, in a monotone voice, "You're the one that will destroy this village."

My spine crawled. My head felt strange, like little fingers were reaching in through my eyes and probing around. I blinked, shook my head...the others caught up to us, and I stared at the boy. "I've never even been here before this, and I don't mean this place any harm."

"...yet." This muttered from Bishop. I could feel Casavir's angry glare towards him, even behind my back. _Those two seem to have a wired nerve when it comes to you..._

The boy stared at me quizzically, then shook his head. "No, I was mistaken. For a moment...but no, the killer will look like you. But it's not you." He stepped towards me, searching my face. "My name is Marcus. This village will die. Everyone in it, killed. I will share their fate, as well, unless you help me."

I'll have to admit, I was speechless. For a bard, that's pretty damn amazing.

Khelgar said, "Well, what do you need from us? We don't have much."

"May I look in your pack?" asked Marcus meekly. Wordlessly, I held it out to him...don't know why I trusted him, but those fingers in my head made me think this boy was not the average town urchin.

Neeshka scoffed. "If that's all it takes, next time I'll just _ask politely _if I can snark your things, shall I?"

Marcus glanced through my meager belongings and shook his head. "No. What about you, sir?" He stepped towards Bishop.

Bishop snarled. "No."

I turned to him. "Please, let him look. He's not trying to steal anything, all right? This is...important." My head felt fuzzy...gods, what _was_ this kid?

Those dark eyes oh his were on me again, and I felt my insides simmering. He hesitated, then; "Fine." He looked down at the boy. "But I'm watching you."

Marcus peeked into Bishop's pack and said almost instantly, "Your dagger. There's something special about it."

Bishop pulled out the said instrument incredulously. "My old skinning knife? It's just a knife." He stared at the kid. "I've had it with me for years, and the only way you're getting it is between your eyes."

"Hey." _There _we go...that old bardic, silver-tongued diplomacy of mine was kicking in at last. I stepped over and placed a hand on Bishop's wrist; gods, just _touching_ him made my fingers tingle. I could feel the heat in my face, and I was remembering what Khelgar said. "Just let him have it, will you? I'll make sure you're rewarded a hundred times over by the time we're done with this thing." My eyes met his, and I smiled disarmingly. _Come on, **work**, damnit..._

He snorted, then looked away from me. "All right, fine. But don't think I'm forgetting about this, or how much you owe me." Yes!

Marcus took the knife. He slid it in his belt and smiled at me, something which I gathered was a rare thing from a boy like this. "Thank you. I will see you again, soon." And with that, he dissappeared into the village behind us.

"That's one creepy little kid," piped Neeshka, staring after him and frowning.

Casavir spoke, for the first time since meeting Marcus. "We need to go, now. Alaine said we're not far behind Shandra, and we could catch up if we pushed hard enough."

I sighed, and gestured for Bishop to take the lead again. "After you, ranger."

He grumbled, but I caught his glance as he pushed past me, and there was a slight smile on his face as he said, "Just don't fall behind, lady bard."


	3. A true bard's song

I leaned against the cave entrance, gasping for breath. I had, surprisingly, come out generally unscathed from fighting the gith up to where we now stood, at what was presumabley the entrance to their lair. Most of the blood splattered on my clothing wasn't mine. For once. It was an uplifting feeling.

I caught Neeshka using more of my bandages and groaned. "Neeshka, love, you're going to use _all_ of them at the rate you're going. Can I please convince you to wear heavier armor?"

She shook her head happily. "Nope! Got to be able to move around. Besides, we've already got one walking tin can, and he gives me the holies." She jerked a thumb at Casavir, who looked mildly amused.

I grinned. "And the walking tin can runs faster than you do because...?"

"Hey, his legs are _long_! I don't see _you_ keeping up when he runs full stride."

I shrugged apologetically at Casavir, who smiled at me, his intensely blue eyes full of good-humor, for once. I cleared my throat and looked into the black depths of the cave that loomed before us. "Well. Are we ready?"

Khelgar finally came running up, panting. "Damn all of you tall people. You do realize I'm a dwarf?"

Neeshka rolled her eyes. I looked around, puzzled. "Where's Bishop?"

"Right here." His mouth was so close to my ear that I jumped nearly out of my skin. He laughed, the first time I've ever heard him laugh, and stepped away from me. "I scouted inside a ways...there's a group of them waiting for us just past the entrance. They know we're here." He lovingly fitted an arrow into his bow-string.

I nodded firmly. "All right, kids," I said, readying my blades. "Let's go greet the locals."

We moved into the cave, and while I could see perfectly fine, I could hear Neeshka swearing to herself as she slammed her foot into a rock. Bishop and Casavir brought up our rear, and Khelgar, since he could see almost as well as I could in the dark, stayed close to my left. The walls of the cave began to open up, and we spread out.

An elaborately dressed githyanki stood in the middle of the cavern, looking fairly unconcerned that we had just hacked our way through his scouts and were now standing before him, bristling with weapons. He stared at me, ignoring my companions. "_Kalach-Cha_," he hissed, "You've come far just to meet your death today."

"Oh come_ on_, you can think of something better than that." I couldn't _help_ it. I'm a bard for gods' sakes. If I ever met a villain some day that delivered a really _good_ line, I think I'd end up kissing him instead of killing him. I put on my best nonchalant face and pointed a scimitar at him. "Why don't you tell me where Shandra is, and we can go from there?"

"Zeeaire has her, worthless elf."

"What the hell do you want her for, anyway?"

He sneered at me, although the githyanki usually look like they're sneering anyway. "The same reason you do, woman! You seek the Haven, and inside that little human brain of hers, the Jerro woman knows where it might be. And of course...we'll need her blood to get in..."

"Don't lay a hand on her!" Casavir thundered.

My insides churned at bit at the protective note in Casavir's voice. He's a damn paladin, those are the kinds of things they say, I thought. I looked at the githyanki mage, measuring my response. "You know we will take her from you. And even if you hadn't taken her, you have attacked my home, and have hounded me across the coast, for no reason I can think of."

I couldn't read his expression, but the general miasma of hatred radiating from him gave me enough of an idea as he spoke. "Not only have you stolen a githyanki silver sword, but you have the audacity to shatter it and carry the peices with you as some sort of_ trophy_!!" He snarled. "You are the worst of criminals and the basest of creatures on this pathetic realm, and I will see your mind pupled into nothingness for it!" He made a gesture with his hand, and suddenly githyanki warriors appeared out of the shadows of the cave, advancing.

"Here we go again," grumbled Khelgar.

I threw a bewilderment spell at the closest group and charged, Khelgar going for the ones on the right. Then I was in it, and my blood was raging in my veins, and everything slowed down and sped up all at once. I killed one immediately, his mouth a round "o" of surprise as a scimitar slid inbetween his ribs. He fell, dragging my arm down with him and I threw up my other scimitar just in time to block a down-swinging longsword, staring into the snarling face of another gith. I fought left handed while desperately trying to yank my right-handed blade out of the carcass sprawled on the floor. When it loosed, I stumbled ever so slightly, but it was enough...the edge of the longsword caught me in the soft left-side of my midsection, and I let out an involuntary, strangled gasp. Oh _damn_, that hurt.

My blood boiled, and I hollared something in elvish before throwing myself on him, swinging my blades down again and again. I was vaguely aware that bodies were falling on either side of me from my wildly swinging scimitars, and that words were pouring out of my mouth. Not spell-weave, but something different...was I _singing_?

I could see Casavir in front of me and a little to my left, fighting back at least three of the githyanki's by his lonesome. He was glowing slightly, and there was this look of fervent, inspired determination on his face. Neeshka ran by me, hollaring bloody murder and chasing a limping githyanki, a trail of dead bodies behind her. She was glowing just like Casavir. And...was Khelgar actually _swinging _a githyanki around in the air by his _leg_? They all trailed brilliant light after them, and all carried the same expression.

I turned, to come face to face with a spear head driving towards me. Oh _shite_...I started to duck, but I knew I wasn't moving fast enough...

An arrow thudded into the side of the githyanki's head, and the spear stopped it's path towards my face abruptly, the gith screaming and fountaining blood as it collapsed to the ground. I looked across the room at Bishop...also glowing. His expression was one of puzzlement, staring at the arrow in the githyanki carcass at my feet, and then down at the bow he held in hands as the glow around him faded. Then he looked at me, and the puzzled expression was gone. Instead, it said _I saved your life. Remember that._

I turned just as Khelgar sent a head flying, and the last warrior dropped. They all regrouped on me.

Khelgar spoke first. "What the gods-be-damned hells was_ that?! _I've heard ye sing before, Harper, but that...it's like the music wriggled into my head and was telling me to do all sorts of crazy things!"

I looked to where the githyanki corpse was impaled on a stalactite where Khelgar had thrown him. "I can see that."

Bishop growled, "I don't like _anything_ 'wriggling' into my head, bard." His put his face close to mine...I could see the rugged line of stubble across his jawline, the faint scar on his forehead, and those dark eyes of his, so close... "So whatever it was that you did back there, you'd best not do it to me again."

"Look, I know this was an...experience, but we really don't have a lot of time to stand here, ok?" Neeshka's voice was thin and worried, and it snapped me back to reality.

"Aye, she's got the right of it. Let's go, and be quiet." We moved off into the darkness, all of us unsettled and uneasy in the aftermath of my song. Most of all, me.


	4. Good initiative, bad judgement

_The Succubi turned as a small band entered the room. "Hssst," one said, "We have company!!" And, like all demon-kin of the Abyss, they attacked without thought._

_They were cut down, eventually. The devil watched from the relative safety of his binding circle as the figures moved closer to them. A woman led them...she stepped into the light, her expression wary, and the devil had to arch an eyebrow in approval. The elves were a fair race, but this one's scarlet-haired beauty suited her. Her leather acoutrements were slightly outlandish in nature, but that suited her, as well. He nodded his head at her. "Greetings, fair one," he said._

_She raised an eyebrow. "You're rather well spoken, fiend."_

_"We are nothing if we don't have our manners," the devil said, and nodded at the tiefling beside the elf-woman. "And greetings to you, little one."_

_"I'm not your little one," the tiefling female snarled, and the devil held up his hands placatingly. _

_"I am in need of your assistance, as you are in need of mine," he said. "If you release me from my bindings, you will be able to pass this doorway, and into the antechamber where the githyanki await you. I am assuming that is your intended destination, yes?"_

_The elf frowned at him. "Aye, it is. What promise do we have that you won't harm us if we release you?"_

_The devil chuckled. Ah, mortals. "If I tell you my true name, you will be able to command me to be released from this...prison. I am bound by such a thing and will not be able to harm you. Is that enough?"_

_The elf considered for a long moment, then nodded, decisively. "Tell me._

_"My true name is Mephasm." He waited._

_One of the men standing behind her leaned forward, and whispered in her ear. Mephasm watched him for a moment...a paladin, bound up tightly in plate and iron, and full to the brim with conflicting desires. The other man, next to him, an irritated expression on his face as he watched them converse; he stood close to the elf-woman, his hands playing with the bow in his hands, and Mephasm could see the growing thing in the ranger's mind...and heart... that disturbed him so. Interesting, thought the devil. I will have to keep an eye on how these things progress._

_"Mephasm," said the elf, "I command you to be banished from this circle."_

_The devil smiled as the bindings shattered. "My thanks, fair one. Until we meet again..."_

_The tiefling glared at the devil. "We won't."_

_Mephasm sighed even as he faded from view. "If only that were the case, little one."_

o o o o o o

I was a bit shaken, I'd have to admit. Dealing with demons was not my cup of tea, and while Neeshka was...well, Neeshka, being faced with a full-blooded Devil and making a pact with him left a weight on my shoulders. This was the real thing, like it or not.

I lifted my hand to enter the githyanki antechamber, only to have the door open before I touched it. The first thing I saw was Shandra...bound, gagged, and locked in a cage against the wall.

"Shandra!" She opened her eyes, saw us, and gurgled. From the look on her face, I could tell she was furious...and as of yet, unharmed.

I took a step forward and...stopped. Couldn't move. _Blast it_, I thought. _I'm always caught by these damn spells..._

The githyanki in front of me stood behind some type of energy shield. Her eyes were black and fathomless, and when she spoke it was like gravel acoss my skin. "Kalach-Cha," she said, "You have brought my shards to me."

"I haven't brought you _shite_," I spat. "You destroyed my village, your minions killed my friends, and you've dogged my steps every waking moment. And I've done _nothing_ to you."

She held out her arm, and I was lifted off the ground, instantly. I heard a creak of wood and the twang of string, and realized that Bishop had attempted to draw an arrow into his bow; but he was held by Zeeaire's spell. Platemail creaked behind me as Casavir strained to move, and in my periphial vision I could see Neeshka, beads of sweat on her forehead as she struggled to lift a throwing dagger and toss it. Despite the un-dignified way I was floating in the air, I still mustered a glare.

"Nothing?" whispered Zeeaire. "You carry the shards of a silver sword on your person...profaning them with your touch. That is enough to warrant your death. But not before..." I felt a tugging, and then a tearing, slicing sound as my pack was ripped to shreds. My belongings scattered, but the shards...the shards floated in the air, past my face, towards Zeeaire," ...not before I take these back from you."

And suddenly, my chest felt on fire...I sucked in my breath as a glow begin spreading from the center of my breastbone. Gods!! It felt like my very heart was being pulled inexorably outwards, straining to fly free from my body, and it grew so intense I cried out.

"Stop it! You're hurting her!" This, from Neeshka.

Mercifully, Zeeaire let me go. I gasped. "I think...that was the point, Neeshka." Instantly I fell to the ground, which was father away then I thought. I could move again, and I stood, holding my blades ready and facing Zeeaire's awed, horrified expression.

Zeeaire said, in a hushed voice, "You...have a shard inside of you."

The room seemed to tilt, grow fuzzy, come back into focus. I didn't doubt her words, but what...how..when?_ Daeghun_, I thought bitterly.

"It's no matter." Zeeaire straightened. "I will rip it from your cold, dead corpse. Attack!"

And it began again. Dodge, weave, slice, tuck, roll, stab. Through it all, Zeeaire remained untouchable behind her energy barrier; until Khelgar was thrown bodily and smashed into one of the archways forming it, and the whole side crumbled to dust. I saw the shield flicker momentarily, and Zeeaire's expression become worried.

"The shield!! Attack the posts, it'll fall!" I scrambled to my feet and raced towards the other side. As I did, I saw a githyanki sneaking up behind Bishop, dagger raised. The range was aiming for a gith and couldn't hear his attacker in the noise of battle, and I was struck with a...well, quite a _bardic _inspiration. I drew a small throwing knife, took careful aim, and as Bishop's attacker dropped his arm in a downward slice that was sure to connect with the ranger's spine, I threw.

_Nice aim, _I told myself.

A dull wet thud and a gurgling scream told me the knife had found it's target. Bishop whirled and watched the githyanki writhe, my throwing knife imbedded in his face, then turned to look at me across the room. The expression on my face might have read something similar to: _I saved your life. Remember that._

Then I turned, swing my arms back, and hacked at the archway posts that held Zeeaire's shield together. Khelgar had gotten the hint when he'd single-handedly...well, single-bodily...took out half of her protective shield, and together we smashed, hacked, and sliced while the others tried to keep the gith off our backs. And when the last post crumbled into nothingness, and my heart soared with triumph, the shield collapsed.

And Zeeaire leapt at me, screaming like a banshee.

We locked together, her hands at my throat...I swung blindly. She was actually choking me quite effectively, and I noted this in a somewhat distracted manner as my vision began to go gray. Lights darted in front of my eyes, and I could feel my swings getting weaker...

Then something smashed across the back of the githyanki's head and she screeched, her grip loosening. Boy, did I take advantage of that. I flipped her off of me, onto her back, and I followed almost instantly, straddling her weakening-form and pinning her arms to her sides with my knees.

Very deliberately, trying not to gasp for sweet, sweet air like a landed fish, I placed both of my blades against her throat, scissor-style.

She laughed weakly, her life crumbling without the magic of the portal to keep her strong. "You fool. We were not...your real enemies! And now you have weakened yourself beyond hope. You will die against the King of Shadows, Shard-Bearer."

"What do you mean? You were in league with the King of Shadows!"

She coughed and gasped. "No...no, we were seeking to...remake the sword. To fight him! And you have...destroyed our outpost." She laughed, and continued on laughing until the last of her breath wheezed into nothingness.

She was dead. But, to give myself a small amount of satisfaction, I quickly and violently jerked upwards on my crossed swords, and her head rolled away from her body.

Bishop grunted. "I'll give you one thing, you've got finesse."

Casasvir frowned at me dissapprovingly, before turning to where Neeshka was already fiddling with the lock on Shandra's tiny prison. We all heard a snick, and then it was a rush to the cage to cut the ropes, ungag the girl and help her to her feet.

"Ye all right, lass?" Khelgar asked, looking up at her worriedly.

"I'm..ungh...fine, now that I'm out of that bird cage." Shandra looked a little worse for wear, but it seemed the gith hadn't harmed her outside of tying her up. Her blond hair was a mess, her face smeared with grime. She looked at me and smiled wearily. "You really have to let me rescue you sometime, or else I'll never be able to pay you back, you know."

"Oh, there'll be plenty of time to pay us all back once we get to Neverwinter, girl." Bishop sneered at her, fingering his bowstring.

"Wh..what?! But..you all put me in danger! I'm not paying you a damn coin, Bishop."

He stepped closer to her, and smiled slightly, his voice thick with suggestion. "Then you can pay me back another way, farm girl. My bedroll gets cold at night, you know...you might be able to fix that for me..."

My blood turned to ice, and fire, and I could feel my face heating up. Khelgar shouted "That's enough of that tone, ranger!" Casavir took a step towards Bishop, his hand on his sword.

"Bishop, if you don't watch your tongue, I'm cutting it off," I said, without thinking...and then wondered at my own vehemence. I was speaking up for Shandra. Wasn't I?

"O-hoo..." Bishop laughed, and the sound felt like silk running over my skin. I shivered. He grinned at me. "Jealousy's a bit thick in this little band, isn't it? I haven't forgotten you, '_vanima'lindo_.'" My heart stopped and my eyes widened at the elven words coming from his mouth. He moved away from Shandra, sliding past me...as he did, he bent towards my ear. "Maybe instead of cutting my tongue off, you could watch it _for _me."

"I won't have you speaking to her like that!" Casavir's sword was about to leave the scabbard, and I had to _do_ something because it was my responsibility, but I couldn't think past the thundering in my head and Bishop's large dark eyes..._snap out of it! _I told myself.

"Let's just get out of here. You're good to walk, Shandra?" Okay. Solution to Bishop was to ignore him, for the moment. Neeshka and Casavir took an arm each and half-carried Shandra towards the exit. I noticed Khelgar was holding something that looked like broken wood..."What is that?"

Khelgar looked at me guiltily. "Oh I...um...I'm sorry, lass, it was the closest thing to hand, and I had to distract her or you were done." He opened his hand...clutched inbetween his fingers were the splintered remains of my fiddle, strings dangling helplessly.

Well, _damn _it. My fiddle. Daeghun had made it for me...which wasn't exactly a sentimental reason to hang on to it, but I _knew_ that instrument. I had learned on it, knew all it's tweaks, had memorized the feel of the wood under my hands. When my pack had ripped it must have fallen somewhere, and naturally Khelgar had picked it up and smashed Zeeaire over the head with it. "It's...hey, it's okay. It's just a...just a stupid fiddle. Not magic or anything." I hated the quavering quality in my voice. "Damn it! It's okay, Khelgar, just toss it, I'll find another one when we get back to the city."

I gathered the remains of my belongings and followed the dwarf out, Bishop bringing up the rear, into the sunlight; my broken fiddle remained behind, just another corpse that lay as a testament to our battle.

We walked for what seemed like years, stopping to rest when Shandra needed it, (or when any one of us secretly needed it and used Shandra as an excuse). A day outside of the city, and we ran out of water, so we stopped at a stream to fill our canteens and wash up a bit. Looking like mud-golems is one thing in the wilds, but in the streets of Neverwinter...well, you can mug, kill, poison, murder, steal, and pillage, but there are just some things you don't _do_ in a city.

Shandra sat next to me and sighed. "I'll be glad when we get back. I could barely swallow Sal's stew before they..took me...and now it's all I can think about."

As if in response, my stomach grumbled loudly, and we both laughed. I ducked my hair into the stream and tried to remove the worst bits of dirt and githyanki from the russet strands, wincing. "They never tell you about the dirt when they tell tales about adventuring. Or the walking." I wrung out my hair and plaited it again, feeling slightly more like an elf and less like a swamp beast.

"Harper...what Bishop said to you in the cavern? What was that? Some kind of insult? I don't know any other language besides common. But I can tell how upset it made you..."

I became very still. "No. Not an insult." I stared at my reflection...large, storm-grey eyes stared back at me, and the sun had browned my skin from our time out-doors. My face looked leaner since the last time I'd looked in a proper mirror and I sighed. Farther down the stream, Khelgar and Bishop were arguing non-sensically about whether you could hit a man in the privates during a bar-brawl or not, and Casavir was re-packing our gear on the bank while trying to keep Neeshka's hands away from it.

"I think we should be going," I said falteringly, not meeting Shandra's eyes. I knew I didn't answer her question, but she didn't probe, and soon, we were walking again and she forgot about it in the midst of trying to explain to Khelgar and Bishop that it was possible to go drinking at night without losing your teeth. Or making someone else lose there's.

_Vanima'lindo_, I thought. I suppose some words of elvish slip into your vocabulary when you travel like he would. He had said the words to disarm me, to dissipate my anger; so why am I wondering if there is more behind it than that? Why do I even care? Huh. _Vanima'lindo. _"Beautiful Songbird."

It was a long walk back to the Flagon.


	5. Duncan's confession

"SAL!" Duncan hollered to the backroom, and his aging bar-hop hurried out into the main floor, looking resigned.

"Hey, get my neice a tankard, will ye?" He sat down across from me and sighed. "All right, look, I suppose ye deserve to know the truth." He glanced warily as my companions crowded around the table, eager to listen. "Um...did ye need some privacy?"

My eyes bore into his. "Nope."

He frowned at me. "I like you Harper, but sometimes you act just like Daeghan." He shook his head, then reached out and patted my hands, clenched together and in front of me on the table. Sal sidled up and slipped a cold mug inbetween them; _Relax_, I told myself. _Your clean. Your hair is brushed. You have alcohol sitting right in front of you, and a fire is blazing._ I took a drink...and sighed, my muscles loosening.

"Healing potion be-damned, nothing heals better than this," I said, and smiled at my uncle slightly. "Ok. Look, the githyanki said I have a...shard, like the one you showed me, but it's inside me. Here, under this scar." I pulled back the collar of my tunic slightly, showing the top of a faded, white scar that, when fully exposed, ran from my right collarbone down to near the bottom of my sternum.

Casavir coughed, and looked anywhere but at me. Bishop just watched blankly. Khelgar whistled. "That looks like a nasty scar, lass." Neeshka rolled her eyes at him. Grobnar piped up "Why, that's nothing, I have a scar on my backside that I received once when..."

"Grobnar!"

"Uh...Right. Sorry, Shandra."

I stifled a laugh in my ale-mug, and then glanced up at Duncan. "You know what happened to me, I can see it. For gods' _sakes_, Duncan, you have to tell me now. With so much at stake, it could cost me everything if I don't know what's going on."

Duncan sighed and wiped a hand across his eyes. "Daeghun'll be furious with me for telling you." He looked into my face. "But you're right. Ye have to know. If he won't be the one to tell ye, well, I will." He paused. "Do you know about the battle at West Harbor, the one fought when you were a babe?"

"Aye, I know some of the story," I said, puzzled.

"Demons were over-running the town, and West Harbor was caught in the middle of a war between them and Neverwinter's forces. Daeghun and some others were evacuating the town, but your mother...and his wife, Shayla, tried to fight through those monsters and get you from your crib. I remember the look on Daeghun's face when he realized Shayla and Esmerelle weren't with the others. We ran back towards the village...I swear, fastest I've ever seen him run." He shook his head. I handed him my glass, and he gratefully took a swig.

I could feel my throat tightening as he went on. "Your mother reached you, but a baatezu did as well...it...took Shayla first, and I saw your mother running, you clutched against her chest. Then there was this_...intense..._white light, and the sound of shattering glass, and suddenly Esmerelle was down, covering you with her body, and you were screaming horribly, and there was so much blood." His voice shook a bit, and he drained my drink without realizing it. "I guess the shard went through her body, straight...straight into your chest. You healed within a matter of days, but Daeghun; he still bleeds from that day."

The room was deathly silent. When I spoke, my voice sounded brash, too loud, against such deafening silence. "Duncan...I...thanks."

He smiled at me. His eyes were unusually bright. "Ah, it's something you needed to hear, my girl. My brother'll forgive me for telling you. What's family for, eh, if not broadcasting secrets?" He looked at my empty mug, and had the grace to blush. "I'll...uh...just get you another drink."

He moved to the bar with my glass and I sighed, feeling deflated. Khelgar said, "I think yer uncle has the right idea! Oy, Duncan! Get me one, too!"

"Get yerself one, dwarf, yer legs aren't broken, and I know _you_ know where the kegs are."

Shandra stood up. "I'll get it for you...I think I need one myself. Elanee?"

The elven druidess shook her head. "I don't drink strong spirits."

"I do!" This from Neeshka.

"You know, I think if I mixed two parts of Duncan's Flagon Brew, and one part fire-beetle belly, I might be able to copy my old Uncle Tobin's Hot Toddy recipe..." Grobnar was a tiny blur moving towards the bar, almost knocking Shandra off her feet.

Duncan came back with two ales in hand; one, he handed to me. He glanced over at Bishop, sitting at the other end of the table. "Bishop, I...well, thanks for looking out for them. For her. I'm thinking the debt you owe..."

"...can't _possibly_ be paid off yet." Bishop's eyes glittered dangerously as he looked at Duncan. "C'mon, Duncan...I still _owe_ you. What better way of paying you back then watching your kin, here?"

"Now, now, you've done more than..." started Duncan nervously, and Casavir shot in with "We don't need you, Bishop."

"Thankfully it isn't up to you, _Casavir_, it's up to Harper." He looked at me, eyebrow raised. Casavir's face looked thunderous; Duncan looked worried.

"Well...honestly, if you don't mind staying on, we could use your help," I said, the words barely tumbling out one after another. Truth to tell, I was kind of anxious that he'd be leaving us already. Elanee didn't know the northern forests, and even with her knowledge of the Mere, it was getting harder and harder to track a path through the swamp these days. At least, that's what I told myself. We needed a good tracker. And the words _vanima'lindo _kept echoing through my head...

Casavir gave me an exasperated look, but Bishop grinned at me. "Then it's settled! Oy, Shandra! Make yourself useful and get one for me, too!"

"Gods-damnit...does anyone _else_ want anything while I'm up? And entire keg, perhaps?"

Khelgar laughed. "I didn't know yer strength had returned to you so quickly, lass! If you can lift an entire keg, I'll have to make you an honorary Ironfist clan member!"

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's your secret rite of clan initiation? Lifting a beer keg?"

Bishop and Neeshka laughed. "I wouldn't put it past them," the tiefling girl said. "And when they don't have any kegs available, they lift Khelgar instead."

"Heh! Look who's talkin' about 'lifting', ya petty little cut-purse," Khelgar grumbled. He took his mug from Shandra and nearly drowned himself happily with his first swig.

Duncan knuckled my shoulder affectionately. "Why don't ye play us a tune on that fiddle of yours? Lighten things up a bit."

One look at my face, and he knew he had said something wrong. I felt my heart sink; I had almost forgotten about my heart-wood fiddle, lying crumpled up in the Luskan mountains. I tried to smile at him, brushing it off. "It's...well, it got broken when we were saving Shandra."

"Broken?" Duncan looked incredulous. "But...Daeghun's craftsmanship is damn good! It'd take a hefty blow to break an instrument like that!"

"Like a blow to a githyanki's head? In the hands of an overbearing dwarf, perhaps?" Neeshka's voice was acidic.

Khelgar turned red, and was about to rumble off an insult, but I inturrupted. "I said it was okay. I meant it," I said softly. "Let it rest. Grobnar can play his lute, if he wants."

"And _not_ sing," interjected Bishop.

Elanee frowned at me sympathetically. "Oh Harper, I'm sorry...you were quite good with that instrument..."

An explosion rocked the bartop, and I gripped the table in a panic, nearly sliding on to the floor. Casavir caught my arm and held me steady, and his deep voice rumbled in my ear, "Careful!" He helped me right myself, pushing my long hair off of my face. "All right, Harper?"

"Um...yes. Fine, thanks." I patted his arm nervously;_ gods_, his eyes were so blue...

Bishop snorted. "How did we ever live without your chivalry, paladin?"

Casavir glanced at him coldly. "I do know for a fact that we managed quite well without your entire presence, Bishop." He stood and moved to Shandra, asking if she was all right.

Duncan was hollering at a sticky, red-substance covered Grobnar, who was bashfully trying to smooth down his hair and pretend he didn't know what was going on. "_Mixing fire-beetle belly?!?! _Have you lost your ever-loving..."

"And that, friends, is my cue to go to bed." I drained my mug. "Much as I love a good night spent drinking, when things start exploding it's time for me to leave." I said my good-eve's to everyone and made my way to my room, Duncan's angry shouting echoing through the walls.

_Tomorrow, I'll go looking for another fiddle_, I thought forlornly, staring at my dark ceiling. But I knew I wouldn't have the heart for it.


	6. The gift

"Surely you can think of _something_?" I asked desperately.

Shandra shrugged at me helplessly. "I'm sorry, Harper, I can't remember much else about him. My mother told me about the Haven, but not where to find it."

I laid my face flat on the table-top. "Then we're stuck. You know, the urge to scream and pull your hair out really creeps up on you, but when it gets there, oh boy..."

"Look, you've found out a lot of information about these shards already, and a lot of that was trial and error."

I looked up at her helplessly. "I _know_ that, but we can't afford to blunder around blindly anymore! I mean, we've already caused too much damage; your entire farm's burnt, the Archives is in shambles, we've utterly destroyed a possible ally..."

"Has anyone seen Bishop?" called Duncan, sticking his head from around the back door.

Neeshka shrugged. "I saw him out chopping up some wood from your little spruce glade, earlier. Thought you were making him fetch you some firewood, as part of that little deal you have going with him." She grinned at the thought.

Duncan frowned at her. "Why would I make him do a stupid thing like that? Sal does things like that." His frown deepened. He glanced at me. "Well, if you see him, tell him I need to speak with him."

"I honestly don't think the githyanki were ever really an ally," said Casavir gravely, calling our inturrupted conversation back to the table. "Their route to the King of Shadows would have involved your death, and that's...not exactly the type of victory over him that we want."

"Well, I'll agree with you there." I sighed. "I wish the answer would just walk through the door, for once, instead of having us chase after it."

The door to the Flagon slammed open, and a man stepped inside. The patrons grew quiet, looking him up and down. He wore court garb; what a noble was doing in this part of the docks, I hadn't the faintest idea.

"Harper Kross?" He called. "I'm looking for Harper Kross. Her Uncle runs this inn."

Grobnar blinked, and looked up at me. "Wow, that actually worked." He called out to the door, "I want a Netherese flying machine! And a wizard's hat! And..."

Neeshka groaned. I stood up, gesturing to myself. "I'm Harper," I said to the man. "What can I do for you?"

He glanced uneasily at the patrons...they were shuffling closer. One of them said, "Ye got a problem with our girl, have ye?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, sir, there's a table over here...just have a seat?" I shot a warning look at the men giving the newcomer trouble; they were Axle's, of that I had no doubt. He sat across from me; looking him full in the face was an eyeful, I'll grant you that. If I didn't know better, I'd assume every chisled statue of the Warrior God in the city was modeled after this one.

He seemed to be measuring me up as well. "Well, you're...certaintly not what I would have expected from your reputation. And certaintly not what I expected from one of Axle's theives."

I smiled disarmingly. Come on, charm, do your thing. "We do what we have to, to get by, milord." I quirked an eyebrow. "Your name?"

"Nevalle. _ Sir _Nevalle." He looked at me gravely, his pale eyes serious. "We've received word from Luskan that one of their villages was attacked last night. Ember. Completely sacked."

I didn't comprehend what he was getting at, so I shrugged. "Forgive me if I don't weep into my morning tea for Luskan, but what does this have to do with me, exactly?"

"They have a witness claiming that you lead the massacre. A survivor that identified you at the town."

I blinked. "What? But...that's not possible. I was here!"

He raised an eyebrow. "So someone was with you the entire night? Saw you here the whole time?"

"Well, no!" I was flustered by that. "I mean, I sleep alone."

Nevalle gave me a hard look, then he sighed. "Look, Harper," he said quietly, leaning forward. "I know you didn't do this, but Luskan's got a witness that says you've done it, and since you've chosen to...live outside of Neverwinter's laws, there's not much I can do to help you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Can do, or will do? I know how nobles don't like to get their hands dirty, and lowering yourself to help a Dock's bard? And one of Axle's girls, no less? Heaven forbid what that will look like on your record..."

His lips tightened angrily. "It's not about how it'll make _me_ look! It's about my hands being completely tied, and you can thank your involvement with Axle for _that_." He simmered somewhat when he realized his voice had risen, and said quietly, "I may know of someone who can help you, all right? I need to speak with him, and maybe I can get him to speak with Axle." He leaned back and stood up, looking down at me. "Until then, you need to stay in the city. Lord Nasher's orders, so don' try to leave, or we _will_ hand you over to Luskan."

I smiled at him wryly. "It's nice to know the officials of Neverwinter care about my safety. Shall I show you to the door, my 'lord?'"

He gave me a measured look, turned, and strode out of the tavern. I waited until the door had slammed behind him, and sank weakly back down onto my seat.

I was instantly surrounded by people. "What'd he say about Luskan? I mean, not that I wasn't trying to listen, or anything..." Neeshka had placed herself directly in front of me.

Shandra frowned. "I heard him mention Ember; that's where the githyanki set up that ambush for you guys, isn't it? They drug me through there on their way up into the mountains. Has something happened?"

My face must have been a quick study. Casavir bent down to look me in the eyes. "My lady...Harper...what is it?"

I covered my face. "Ember's been attacked. Everyone's been massacred, and they're saying...well, the survivor is saying I'm the one that did it." My voice sounded surprisingly calm. Where was _that _coming from?

Khelgar scoffed. "Well o' course it ain't true, ye've been with us the whole time! What bloody nonsense is Luskan trying to pull?"

They argued for a few moments, and I said nothing, my mind racing. Obviously, I had another enemy here. Think..._didn't the mage from the Sea Ghost claim something about a master of his? _Well, he did right before I killed him, anyway. And they were from Luskan. _Has to be one and the same person, or I'd eat my fiddle. _Well...the fiddle that I...oh, hells.

"Quiet," I said evenly, and the ruckus died down. "It doesn't matter if I did it or not, it matters if I can prove it."

"And that is exactly what we're going to do," said a voice from the doorway. Seven heads turned at once to watch Sand walk in, brushing the street-dust off his robes.

Duncan scowled. "Sand! What in the hells are you doing here?"

"I'm actually here for your kin, Duncan, so if you would be so kind as to go back to...whatever it is you think you do that constitutes work, I'll just speak with her." The dark-haired elf sat next to me at our table, which was beginning to become incredibly crowded.

"I'm going to assume Nevalle's already been to see you, given the general miasma of dismay you all seem to be wallowing in," he said wryly. "Nevertheless, I'm to help you try and prove your innocence; when Nasher lets you leave the city we'll have to get evidence, anything, that'll help your case." He looked at me seriously for a moment. "And trust me when I say, you're going to need it. Torio Claven will draw and quarter you without hesitation."

Khelgar sighed. "I'm going to be surrounded by elves for the rest of my days, aren't I?"

Elanee and I looked at him. Sand quirked an eyebrow. "That depends on how long the rest of your days last, I'd assume."

"Oh knock it off, everyone. Look, I can't even go anywhere yet, at least not until I see Axle, so let's just...do this one step at a time." I patted Khelgar's shoulder affectionately. Hard for him, being the only dwarf. He grumbled something deprecating about my sentimentality, but I noticed the flush of pleasure on his face.

I stood, stretching. "I'll go get my things ready, and you all should too. Once we figure out Axle's plan to get me out of this, I have a feeling we'll have to implement it as soon as possible, so we need to be prepared." I turned to go, and stopped. Looked back at Sand.

"Hey, wizard," I said, and he looked at me questioningly.

I smiled at him. "Thanks."

He looked somewhat startled. "Don't thank me, I _have_ to do this. But...I mean...ah...you're welcome."

As I turned the corner to head down the halls towards my room, Karnwyr, Bishop's wolf, ran past me, stopping for a fraction of a second so that my fingers could scratch behind his ear before heading into the common area. As I looked up, I saw Bishop not far behind him, walking towards me from the back rooms we used as sleeping areas.

I frowned at him. "Where were you? A lot's just happened, and Duncan's been looking for you..."

"Oh, has he?" His lip curled. "Can't keep him waiting, now can I? As for where I was, I don't recall you being the one that held my leash."

"Look," I placed a hand on his chest to keep him from walking by. "Something big's just happened; that village we went through, where we were ambushed? It's been completely sacked."

"So?" His eyes were cold.

"They're saying I'm the one that did it."

He blinked, his rugged features puzzled. "You? When?"

"Last night. And since my only alibi was that I was _sleeping_, well...I really have no alibi at all."

He glanced up and down the hall, then stepped closer to me, his hand closing over mine, which still lay pressed against his chest. "You know, if you didn't sleep all by yourself, you wouldn't have that problem..."

"Oh stuff it, Bishop!" My voice was angry...and my heart was hammering_. Damn_ this ranger, how did he get such reactions out of me?

He grinned down at me...I heard footsteps down the hall and stepped away from him quickly. He let go of my hand, and shrugged. "Well, I'm sure your friend Axle will have something planned. I suppose I should pack my things up, hmm?" He sidled past me, and dissappeared into the common room.

I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. Casavir turned the corner, scowling back the way he came; probably at Bishop. He turned and saw me, stopping in his tracks. "Are you all right?"

I smiled weakly. "For a falsely-accused murder of villagers, I couldn't be better."

He frowned at me, concern etched in his voice. "I shan't see you hang, Harper. I promise you that."

His words encouraged me, like they were meant to. _That paladin charm, _I thought. My smile became more genuine. "Thanks, Casavir. You know, I appreciate you sticking with us. I mean, you didn't really have any obligation to, you could have stayed at the Well, but..."

"But, your need was greater, and I made my choice." He smiled ever so slightly. "You should get your things and get some rest while you can, my lady."

"Right." I turned, and headed towards my room, my thoughts boiling. Casavir was like a shaft of brilliant light compared to Bishop_. He thinks a few smooth words will get him past my defensees? HA! Bishop doesn't know anything about loyalty, or selflessness, or...or caring for people..._

I opened my door, deciding firmly to put the ranger out of my thoughts...and stopped.

Lying on my bed, gleaming, was a freshly carved violin.

The room was full of the smell of new-cut spruce, and it tingled in my lungs as I inhaled. I took a few faltering steps forward and sank onto my bed, staring at it. Intricate feathers were carved along the soundboard, which was polished until it shone. And it was the highest quality wood you could use for any stringed instrument. The sound you'd get out of it, I couldn't even begin to imagine. Something like this would have cost me...well, I cringed at the thought. I picked it up gently. All it needed was some strings and a good tuning...and I'd need a bow...oh. There, across my pillow; and the strings, too.

I had everything I needed. My heart _ached_.

On the back of the baseboard, carved so small I could barely read them, were the words "_Vanima'lindo."_


	7. Vigil

I shivered. Gods, it was cold out here. I huddled as close as I dared by the fire; the heat of it was scorching my face, while the bone-deep chill of the night air clung to my back. Stupid vigil. No wonder I never wanted to be a knight.

This was Axle's big plan. Squire me, make me a member of the nobility, and Luskan wasn't allowed to just drag me away. They called it High justice; I was to be tried at Neverwinter's court, which meant that I'd actually get a real trial. For something that I didn't do. Believe me, I was overjoyed. _Really. _Although...I reminded myself it could have been much worse. I could be hanging from a gallows right now, yes? _Instead of later on some time in the future._

Sir Edmund had left me here at Solace Glade a few minutes earlier, after telling me tales of how he had snuck away from _his_ first vigil and ended up despoiling a farm girl down the road. I couldn't help but grin to myself as I thought about it. Supposedly the girl's father had chased him off, and Edmund had gotten back in time for his patron knight's return. _Some people just have that lucky edge, _I thought. _Maybe I could get Neeshka to steal it from him for me._

The silence was smothering out here. I should have brought my new fiddle. Just thinking about the instrument made my insides churn with delight and confusion and desire, and...well, a million other things. Not only was Bishop's craftsmanship fairly remarkable, but while everyone else had merely expressed their sympathy over my lost instrument, he had done something. For _me_. It seemed so uncharacteristic of him. Besides, I had thought that only another bard would have understood losing an instrument. Everyone had patted me on the back and told me I'd find another one, but it just wasn't like that. Unless an instrument spoke to you, you didn't even pick it up, and finding another one that I connected with would have taken time. I had never felt so disoriented in my entire life.

But just seeing that little violin on my bed...well, it had been_ made _for me. It was mine, and it recognized me, and my meager magic had reached out and claimed it when I had laid my hands on the wood. I hardly knew what to say to Bishop. The gesture was...incredibly personal, and I hadn't had the time to even speak two words to him on the way to Axle's; what with Sand instructing me on what to say and what not to say, and that I wasn't even allowed to think about speaking unless Sand was present to save me from my conversational foibles.

So I sat here, shivering, and holding the idea that the ranger had done something wonderful for me close to my heart. _At least, until he actually opens his mouth and _says_ something about it, and completely ruins the whole thing_, I thought wryly...but I smiled when I thought it.

"Are you out here? I can barely see anything!"

A shadow stumbled down from the closest set of hills and became Shandra as it got closer to the firelight. I blinked. "Shandra, what are you doing here?"

"Look, no way am I letting you stay out here by yourself, not with the way you get into trouble." She smiled at me and then rolled her eyes. "Besides, Khelgar found Duncan's stash of Enderwine, and the tavern's gotten pretty rowdy, what with Axle's boys always hanging out there now. Elanee was actually _dancing_."

My heart sank. "I _missed _that? My god, woman, you torture me!"

Shandra laughed. "Can I sit?"

I sighed, and scooted over, giving her some room. "Aye, I could care less if Edmund sees you. He doesn't seem such a stickler for the rules, anyway. What the hell is the _point _of this?" I hugged myself for warmth. "This might be why all the noblemen are so stodgy...their damn balls froze off on their vigils, and they've lost all zest for life."

"Harper!" Shandra burst into laughter.

I grinned, and she shook her head, chuckling. "I don't know how anyone could think _you've _slaughtered a helpless village." She sobered slightly at the thought. "I wish I knew who _really_ did it." Her voice had a steely edge to it.

"Aye, you knew those people, didn't you? Or at least they knew you." I stared at the fire. "Look, I know what it must feel like...people I knew all my life died at my village when the githyanki attacked it." I patted her awkwardly on the arm. "When the trial's over with, we'll find out who really did it. Well; at least the others will help you, if I end up become a gallows ornament."

"Oh, don't say that! Even if the trial goes badly, we won't let them have you, Harper. We'd...break you out, tear the walls down, do something. Qara would probably set something on fire in the process." She gave me a hooded glance, her look mischevious. "I know someone who's pretty familiar with the woods that would probably be willing to hide you somewhere...

I blushed furiously. "Gee, that's subtle."

"Well, you two _aren't. _Gods, girl, the way he_ looks _at you sometimes, I feel like I should leave the room before something happens." She paused. "Of course, then he opens his mouth, and I'm consoled that even you wouldn't throw yourself on him after what he says." She grinned at me. "And when he comes in the room, you kind of go cross-eyed..."

"I do _not!" _I hesitated. "Cross-eyed, really?"

A branch snapped. We both jumped, and I peered into the darkness, making out three figures approaching the fire. I narrowed my eyes, and stood, drawing my weapons. Shandra, of course, couldn't see them in the dark, and jumped up, startled. "What is it?"

"Company."

Three men, tattoos covering their features, stepped into the firelight. The shortest of them glanced at my un-sheathed scimitars, and back up into my resolute face, uncertainty flashing through his expression.

I grinned. "Hello, boys."

o o o o o o

Hours later, Sir Edmund found me, sitting peaceably by my dying fire, three corpses scattered around me. Shandra had left long ago.

He quirked an eyebrow at me, noting the bloodstains on my clothing. "Do you dislike men in general, or was there something particular about these three?"

I smiled. "They thought I was a farm girl, and asked to spend the night."

"Ha!" Edmund chuckled. "I know that isn't what happened, girl, but you acquitted yourself well enough. Come on...you're a Squire now, and Nasher will want to see you."

o o o o o o

"...so try and listen to me when we're collecting evidence, and maybe we can get you out of this mess."

Sand had been talking my ear off non-stop, and to be perfectly blunt, I was about to drop. I hadn't slept all night and my eyes felt grimy, like if I didn't close them soon they were going to leak out of my face. He did pull himself out of his lecture long enough to open the door of the tavern for me, and I stepped inside. Wonderful...my bed was only a few feet away...

"Harper!" Duncan un-characteristically threw his arms around me in a bear hug, nearly shouting in my ear. "Thanks the gods! How'd it go? What happens next?"

I gasped. "Air!"

My half-elven uncle let go of me quickly; he was no Khelgar, but he was burlier than my frame, and frequently hauled unruly drunkards out on their ear every night all on his own strength. Well. Nothing like being crushed in a vice to wake you up in the morning.

I blinked. "If you want me to talk, coffee. Now. Otherwise, I'm falling asleep in the middle of the floor, and you won't be able to move me."

Duncan patted my shoulder and hurried back to the kitchen. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, and looked at my companions, seated randomnly around the room. My eyes fell on Bishop, leaning against the hearth stones, watching me...always watching me. He had an arrow in one hand, and his fingers were absently stroking the flight-feathers. The image immediately entered my mind; those nimble fingers, sliding down my--_no!_ I glanced up into his eyes again, guiltily aware of the heat creeping into my face. Apparently, I wasn't as tired as I thought.

He quirked an eyebrow at me, noting the bloodstains on my clothing. "All right?" His voice was cool, impersonal, but the look in his eyes told me he had known _exactly_ what he was doing. And he knew it had worked.

My voice failed me, the traitor. I simply nodded.

"Do you need healing, Harper?" This from Elanee.

"I need a bath. And a bed," I said wearily, stolidly keeping my eyes away from Bishop's face. I sat down, and moments later, Duncan shoved a mug of coffee in my hands, and I felt slightly more like a person.

Sand, mercifully, spoke up. "We need to get evidence for her case. She's a squire, now, so she'll be tried in Neverwinter, and she'll be able to leave the city, so long as she comes back for her trial." Sand glanced at me, and said, "We..ah...should probably plan on leaving tomorrow."

"So it's settled then. Everyone should rest and prepare; we might not be back here for a few days, maybe a week." Casavir stood, and hesitated for a moment. "If you need anything from me...us...just let any of us know, Harper."

"Thanks...thanks, all of you." My voice wavered momentarily. "Look, I know I'm not exactly..uh...figurehead material, but you've all stuck with me thus far and I honestly think I'd be dead by now if it weren't for you."

I was instantly surrounded by bodies, hands patting my back, mussing my hair. Smiling faces looked at me; even Qara stood at my side, grinding her fist into her palm. "Hey, just say the word and I roast 'em, you know?"

"I feel like I've always known you," said Elanee, smiling. "I'd never forgive myself if I left you know."

"Aye, we're with ya Harper, no doubt about it! I'll be damned if I ever find another elf that can drink like you again! Why, you're probably the only one of your kind who can stomach my Stoutbeard Whiskey!"

Sand snorted. "The first sip of it probably killed her taste-buds and spared her the rest."

Khelgar looked at Sand narrowly. "Ye don't _taste _it, wizard. Ye just _drink _it."

They joked, and harassed each other, and filed out of the common area. I stared at my coffee, my thoughts buzzing around my head like a whirlwind until they finally landed on the fiddle, lying by my beside in my room. I glanced up as I saw Bishop sidling out the door.

"Hey," I said softly.

He looked back at me. I nodded at him wearily. "Thanks."

He didn't say anything for a moment, just regarded me, that slight scowl he always seemed to carry deepening slightly. Then he shrugged, and looked away from me. "You owe me a song, bard," he said. His voice sounded rougher than usual. "And none of that horse-piss elven pandering you sharp-eared halfwit minstrels are known for. Something with some life to it." He left the room, calling over his shoulder, "Or I'm turning that fiddle into firewood again."

I smiled to myself.


	8. Trial by Fire

_She stood behind the podium, Sand slightly behind her, occasionally speaking in her ear. Her fingers gripped it's edges until her knuckles were white. Her chin was high and her eyes burned like quick-silver, meeting the gaze of everyone in the room. Her blood-grass colored hair fell in long, slow curls down her back and when she tossed her head it flew behind her like a banner, waving victory. Sand had told her to leave it down for the trial. Now, he understood why the wizard had counseled so. She looked softer, feminine, smaller somehow. A lot less like a sacker of villages and more just a pretty elven girl. _

_But that voice of hers, no one could escape. There had been pretty women before, true. Maybe a few prettier than her; not many, though, but a few. Some had even hung around for a bit of time, had distracted him until he had gotten a hold of himself and left. Yet her voice, clear as a bell, struck him down to the base of his spine, echoed through his head, and left his rib-cage shaking. It was that damn bardic magic. It had to be, or else he was losing his mind. Or losing something else..._

_Even now, as she passionately recited her harrowing tale in her own defense (even he was starting to believe it, and he knew half of what she was saying was bull-shite), he found himself watching her lips move, her voice peircing him until he felt that he would bleed from it. The sympathetic murmers and nearby, muffled weeping told him that the crowd, at least, was buying it; Lord Nasher's face seemed impassive as always. _

_He recalled when she had burst into song in the githyanki cave, and how the urge to fight on! press harder! be victorious! had been so irresistable that he had been swept along with the tide without even realizing it..._

_Witch woman, he thought. She was doing something to him, she had to be. He had never been affected like this by anyone, let alone an elf-wench. The most disturbing thing, is that there seemed to be a voice in his mind; a changeling that told him to help her. To protect her. That making her happy was important. Where the hell was this coming from? It was like a persistant itch that wouldn't go away. He had made a_** _point_ **_to ensure that nothing ever became even slightly important to him, besides survival. He had shut the doors on those feelings long ago, left them burning in the long-buried memory of a village. He'd had to, else he'd go mad._

_His mind snapped back to the present when the dwarf nudged him. "Nasher's giving the verdict," he whispered._

_The self-styled Lord of Neverwinter stood, and everyone in the room was completely silent. He glanced back down at her; she leaned forward over the podium slightly, her eyes fixed on Nasher, lips slightly parted; the muscles in her arms stood out like chords, she was gripping the wooden frame so tightly. Justiciar Oleff went through some religious posturing about the trial, and then formally asked Lord Nasher for the verdict._

_"I think it's clear who the culprit is after these proceedings," announced Nasher, and for a moment Torio's face flickered in triumph._

_Nasher looked across the room, and after a pause, said "Sir Nevalle, I want the Luskan Ambassador, and every member of the Luskan Brotherhood out of the city by nightfall." People exploded; arguing, cheering, shouting, shaking hands, patting backs...the dwarf almost knocked him over the edge of the balcony. He saw Harper deflate with relief, stepping back from the podium into a feirce hug from Shandra._

_"Lord Nasher! Surely you can't think the Brotherhood.." Torio was desperately trying to get Nasher's attention again._

_"I have given my verdict, Claven!" Nasher turned away to speak with Oleff, and already seemed to be forgetting the Ambassador was there. Nevalle, however, had not...he had taken three menacing steps towards her, motioning to the guards, when Torio marched into the center of the room, and screamed above the chaos._

_"I claim my right to trial by combat!"_

o o o o o o

Everyone shut up fast.

Sand was whispering faster than lightening in my ear, explaining the implications to me even as Nasher narrowed his eyes at the Luskan Ambassador. "I don't have time for this, Torio!"

She glared at him. "You _dare_ deny me this, Lord Nasher? Can he do that, Justiciar Oleff?"

The aged Justiciar sighed. "No...no, he cannot." He looked at Torio. "But I doubt you'll last long enough on the field against Squire Harper, Torio."

She regained something of herself, and put on a smug smile. "Indeed, you're right about that, milord. Will anyone fight as my champion in this most worthy cause for justice?"

There was silence. My heart soared.

And sunk again, as a deep, rumbling voice that could have been death incarnate shouted, "I will fight so that justice may be done!"

A mountain of a man entered the courtroom, easily three hands taller than me and just as wide. Muscles bulged on his frame...I even think if he lifted his foot high enough, he could have stepped on me and squashed me flat. Something about his face looked familiar...

All eyes turned to me, and Lord Nasher spoke as if in a daze. "Very well. Tonight, Squire Harper, you will go through the Rite of Tyr, and tomorrow...tomorrow, you shall face Luskan's Champion on the field, or choose a champion of your own to fight in your stead. The outcome of that battle will determine the ruling."

What?! "You've got to be kidding me!"

The courtroom became an ocean of noise again, and Sand grabbed me by the arm and ushered me out hurriedly, Shandra running behind to keep up. "This is nonsense!" I said, when we were outside. "They found me innocent!"

"It's an old law, and most of the time, whoever's guilty in the case usually ends up confessing during the Rite of Tyr. Nothing like facing death to change your mind." Sand looked worried. "But, as in this case you are truly innocent, and I doubt that Lorne or Torio will have a sudden attack of conscience..."

"Lorne!" I said suddenly. "I know that man. He's a Harborman, he's from the Mere! He's fighting for Luskan?!"

Shandra sighed. "And I thought my life was upside down..."

The others pushed their way through the crowd to us. I held up a hand to forestall speaking; the trial had run late and the sun was already sinking.

"We need to go to the temple." My voice sounded hollow in my ears, and I avoided anyone's gaze. Death faced me on all sides, and I wasn't coming out of this one without some marks on my hide, it seemed.

o o o o o o

"You will spend the night in the alter-room, gazing on the face of Tyr and asking him for his justice," intoned Hilam.

_ Right, I'll just keep all thoughts of instantaneous, bloody death out of my head and concentrate on justice, _I thought bitterly. But I didn't say such words to a pious man like Hilam; some people you just didn't tease. Who knows, Tyr might take offense to sarcasm, and I definately needed to be on his good side tomorrow.

"And your friends must leave you, although you may have visitors for a short time."

I turned and looked back at my companions, crowded behind me in the church. "All right...well...I'll be fine, really." I smiled bravely, which I imagined looked more like a grimace, and watched as they filed out. Khelgar was last to go, and just as he was about to place a foot out the door...

"Hells teeth! I'll not be taking this sitting down!" He turned and thundered towards Hilam, sticking his axe in the air to emphasize each point. "This is bloody wrong! I'll not just stand by while some ogre of a man kills her off! Not after we tried so hard, and we won, too! We bloody well _won_ that damn trial, and now they're just...cheating, and it's not going to happen, do you hear me?!"

The church echoed with the last chords of Khelgar's tirade, and Hilam looked down at the dwarf impassively. "You feel it is unjust."

"It damn well _is_ unjust, and you know it!! Harper," he turned to me, and I had to dodge his wildly swinging axe, "Harper, girl, let me fight him! I'll give him such a beating that all of Luskan will feel it, and limp for a week after!"

Hilam looked at me. "You..do have the right to choose a champion, to fight in your stead. Would you choose this one?"

"I..." Honestly, for a craven second, I thought about it. But if Khelgar lost, he'd be dead. And I'd be dead too, for it would be the gallows for me. At least if I fought myself, I'd only be risking one life. I sighed. "No. Khegar, thank you." I bent down and kissed the top of his head. "Thank you. But I can do this."

He grumbled. "All right. But...don't ye be getting killed, then! That's a top notch way of tickin' me off, it is." He patted my arm gruffly, and left the temple. I could still tell he was angry; hells, the dwarf was practically steaming at the ears.

"Follow me," said Hilam.

o o o o o o

I had unbuckled my sword-belt, and lain my weapons on the ground next to me. My hair was neatly plaited again, and hung down my back in a long braid; curls were pretty, but useless against giant killing machines. Most of the heavier accoutrements of my leather armor were laid out beside me, as well. I leaned back against the far wall, the statue of Tyr staring at me in my plainclothes and boots. The air of the temple was cool on my exposed skin, and I could hear the droning of the monks in a far off room. I couldn't even imagine dozing off in this place.

The far door opened, and Sand stepped in. "I hope you don't mind me inturrupting, but after Khelgar's...outburst...I figured you'd be willing to listen to anything." He walked over to me, and rather impiously used a knee-bench as a seat-bench. "I just wanted to wish you luck tomorrow, and to...er...give you these."

He opened his pack and took out at least seven healing potions; I could tell by the way they fizzled slightly that he had just brewed them. I was touched. "Sand..."

"No, don't thank me, I'll just get all embarassed and start blushing enough to put Elanee to shame." He gave me a measured look. "You know, you did quite well in the courtroom today. Torio was sweating daggers near the end. You've got a way of wrapping words around your little finger that I'm starting to envy." He smiled wryly. "If you live tomorrow, we'll have plenty to talk about, you and I."

"Oh, thanks for the _if_, Sand," I grumbled, but I returned his smile after a moment. "And thanks for helping me. Even if the trial did turn out to be utterly useless, it...was kind of fun. I've never had a bigger audience than that before."

"And at the end, they were all yours, my dear." He stood. "I'll show myself out. Do us proud, tomorrow."

o o o o o o

"It's just a statue, you know."

I had been staring at Tyr, my eye's glazed over; I was writing music in my head, and feeling sorry for myself that I'd never get to write it down before I died (I was a little melancholy, all right?). I blinked. Bishop was standing in the doorway, leaning against the door frame.

My insides did their usual acrobatics, but I stayed seated, and watched as he walked into the room and sat beside me, leaning against the wall. "You're going to go through with this thing, aren't you?" He didn't look at me, just leaned his head back, his eyes almost shut.

"I don't really have a choice. If I champion someone else, and they die? I'm dead anyway, and that's just another life wasted. If I fight, at least it's just me dying." The last part I said lightly, as if making a joke, but Bishop growled.

"Well, look, if you'd rather _not_ die, listen. I've seen how men like Lorne fight, they're all strength and swing and momentum. And I know how you fight, and just because he's bigger than you, doesn't mean he's got the advantage." He glanced down at my scimitars on the floor. "You're quick, and you move better than he does; if he tries to shift too fast he stumbles over his own feet, so my advice? Keep moving, and keep striking. He won't be able to keep up with you." He finally met my eyes. "Just don't get hit; his arms are like tree-trunks."

I cocked an eyebrow at him quizzically. "You sound like you know from experience."

Bishop waved my comment away with a flick of his wrist. "Like I said, I've seen how men like him fight." He tapped the side of his head. "I know what I'm talking about."

I nodded. "Okay. Well...okay. Then I'll take your advice." I sighed. "I really don't have much else to go on."

"And...well, if you need it, they'll give you a chance before you'll go on the field to pick someone to fight for you." He rubbed the back of his neck, scowling. "Maybe I'll do it, if you ask for me."

I was suddenly and sharply aware of how close he was. I didn't realize I was staring at him, until he looked at me again; his eyes were so close I could count the green and gold flecks around his irises, see a fringe of dark lashes around the edges. Without really meaning to, I closed the short distance between his face and mine, and my lips found his.

Flames licked at my veins, and my body ran hot and cold all at once. I remember the roughness of his shadow of facial hair against my cheek, his sharp intake of breath as my mouth pressed against his, the smell of dusk that clung to him, filling my nostrils. His hands found my shoulders, gripped them, pulled me closer, and his tongue slid past my lips easily...a promise. For a moment, I thought I would crumble to nothingness if he kissed me any longer...and that the same would happen if he stopped. And then, without warning, he let me go. We parted, and his eyes were bright, his breath heavy.

He stood, slowly, carefully, and it was then that the chanting of the monks infiltrated my senses. He looked at me a moment longer, then swiftly turned to leave, and my breath started coming a little easier. I sat against the wall, trying desperately to re-collect my scrambled thoughts, when he looked back at me.

"And in a church, too? You fly in the face of decorum, songbird." He grinned, and left.

Suddenly, facing Lorne seemed like child's play.


	9. Duel day dawning

My throat was dry. Cheers filled the arena, but they seemed muffled, as if coming from a great distance. Shandra was helping me buckle on my sword belt and re-adjusting my gear, so that nothing would slide, sag, or come un-done.

"You know, sometimes I feel like your damn squire," she said harshly, not meeting my eyes.

"I feel rather like a gnome...which is good! Because I am one!" Grobnar smiled at me cheerfully; he was holding my pack until the fight was over with, in which case if I...lost...I had told him he could keep all that was in it. My legacy to another bard, so to speak. I fervently hoped he wouldn't accidentally do something to my books of music. Like eat them.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this? You can pick someone else to fight for you, you know."

My arena attendant came bustling up, catching the last part of Shandra's words. He nodded at me. "Actually, that's what I'm here for; if you want to choose someone else, now's your chance; otherwise, I have to go tell Lord Nasher that you're ready."

"Ready? _Now?!" _I inhaled deeply, trying to take the panicked edge out of my voice. I looked out over the crowd; Duncan sat next to Elanee and Sal, his face pale and grim. Casavir and Qara were behind them; Qara's face looked impatient, Casavir's a blank mask. He had his weapons with him, and wore his armor, unlike many of the others who had come in plainclothes. Khelgar was to his right, also armed to the teeth. His face was a mask of fury, and he glared at the end of the Arena that Lorne would enter from, as if by thought alone he could kill the man. Sand sat on Khelgar's side, his face calm; only the slight, tense hunching of his shoulders indicated to me that he was anxious. I recognized many people from the City that I'd come to know; some were talking, some were silent, a few were cheering desperately. I didn't even realize I was scanning the crowd for a particular person, until my eyes fell on him.

Bishop was at the back of the crowd, dressed in his leathers; his knives were all strapped on his person, and a full quiver was on his back. He fingered his bow distractedly, ignoring those around him. He was scowling slightly, eyes narrowed, looking at nothing in particular.

I pictured Lorne's blade driving into Bishop's gullett, and squeezed my eyes shut. "No," I said, and my voice, _thankfully_, sounded steady as a rock. "I've got to do this myself."

"All right, milady, I'll inform his Lordship. When I return, be ready, because there'll be no turning back." The attendant sprinted towards the main veranda, and Shandra shook her head at me.

"My gods, you're stubborn," she said. "Why don't you try and move all of Faerun while you're at it, Harper."

"You know, this makes me think of a song I've been working on, and it's perfect for this occasion!" said Grobnar, and took a deep breath.

"Grobnar, no--" Shandra said.

"Wait, you don't ha---" I said.

_"For all the roads we've traveled,_

_For all the truths we've found,_

_Never before have I felt this way_

_To the dead of Ember bound..."_

His voice was high and...not unpleasant. At least he hit the notes. But the little song reminded me that there were dozens of people lying dead, for no better reason than some wizard in Luskan wanted to use their deaths to get to me. The last traces of my fear and doubt slunk away, and I held my head high. Like_ hell _was I going to let the spirits of those dead villagers leave this plane without a little revenge to sweeten their way.

My attendant ran back and nodded at me. "Go!"

I stepped into the arena, hearing the rush of crackling flames behind me as the attendant lit the line of oil spilled along the entrance; a wall of fire had sprung up, blocking my escape. I looked up into the crowd, and the cheers and chanting died down. I stared at all those faces for a moment; _nice audience_. Too bad it was for my possible death, and not for my music. What I wouldn't have given...ah, but I was stalling. As soon as I took a step and started walking across the huge expanse of compacted dirt, the crowd went nuts. Cheers, screams, whistles, applause; they were going to make sure I stayed alive by sheer force of will, if they had to. I felt immeasurably small; the walls towered above me, and hundreds of eyes marked my progress.

Lorned had entered the arena, and the cheers turned into hissing, spitting, cat calls, angry shouting. It didn't bother him in the slightest. He had a smug smile on his face as he walked towards me, and the sun was at his back, making his shadow stretch long and looming. When we met in the middle, he said, his voice rumbling, "Little girl, you're dead."

My inner fire crackled. "Poor Lorne; if only your mother could see you now. She'd probably die of shame...or would you kill her first?"

"Shut your filthy mouth!" He hissed at me, filling me with no small amount of satisfaction. We turned, and faced Lord Nasher and the nobles as the herald began his call.

"Just for that, I'm going to gut you like a fish, and hang you on a line on Luskan's walls," Lorne whispered fiercely from the corner of his mouth.

"I wasn't aware you knew how to gut a fish, Lorne. It seems too complicated a task for your mental faculties."

He sneered, but stopped talking. Lord Nasher was done with the rules of combat, which I hadn't listened to. Oops. Oh well...like Lorne was really going to follow them, anyway.

We were supposed to bow; Lorne turned his head, and spit on the ground at my feet. I cocked an eyebrow, but glanced at the crowd and swept low, in the most floruishing curtsey I could have managed in multiple layers of skin-tight leather. The crowd cheered.

We turned from each other, and walked to our opposite sides. _Move quickly, stay out of his reach, in and out like a snake. An extremely poisionous snake that isn't afraid of anything. And is immune to..uh...everything. _

I turned to face him, only to discover that Lorne was already bearing down on me like a juggernaut. He was hollering some long, drawn out war-cry, and I waited in his path, my legs tensing..._now! _I sprung to my right, sweeping my left arm straight across as he ran by, and I caught him a glancing blow on his side. _Damn, his armor was thick_. He was turning around, getting ready to come at me again. Bishop had been right; Lorne moved slow, and I had plenty of time between clashes to size up his next move.

The battle was going well, for me. I had caught a few glancing blows but I was almost dancing around him, and though I didn't do much damage to him with one hit, the little bits and peices were adding up, and soon he was oozing blood from dozens of wounds. The latest one caught him on his scalp (I still don't know how I managed to even_ reach _that high) and suddenly he seemed to just..._lose_ it. He went beserk, and charged me, and even my blade sliding along his ribs didn't stop him.

A huge, meaty fist connected with a _crack!_ to my head and sent me flying. I slammed into the wall, my hands making sickening slapping noises against the stone, and my fingers lost their grip on my swords. I slid to the ground, wanting to vomit; my head spun, making the world a dizzying array of colors and too-loud sounds. I saw four versions of Lorne lumbering towards me, blood streaming down his face, looking like a fire-demon newly released from the hells. I couldn't focus, and I couldn't tell which one of the Lorne's was the real one. _Deneir be with me_, I thought through the shattered mess that was my mind, and I waited until the last second; as Lorne go closer, the four became two, and the two became one, and his sword was falling towards me...

_Move! _I rolled to the side, my aching right hand grasping the hilt of my fallen scimitar; as his blade cleaved the stone wall of the arena and stuck in a shower of sparks, I turned, placing my foot on the dull edge of his blade. My head was _screaming, _but if I stopped now I was dead, and I pushed off his sword, leaping into the air over his shoulder, my sword swinging down. The blade struck true; it's edge bit into the soft base of his neck and continued downward with a sickening crunch, severing his spine. The contact with bone jarred the scimitar out of my already throbbing hands, and I hit the ground behind him, rolling awkwardly. I staggered to my feet, and turned...Lorne gurgled, his eyes rolling up into his head. Slowly, painfully, he tried to take a step but his damaged spine would only allow him a shuffling stagger before he collapsed, blood pooling in the dusty earth.

I was vaguely aware of cheering, but the sight of Lorne falling seemed to have shut off my adrenaline all at once, and suddenly the world lurched. I turned, vomited, wiped my mouth, looked up. The flames on my side of the arena had been doused and a group of people were running toward me; at the front was Elanee, her face panicked, her legs pumping with incredible speed. I took a few staggering steps forward, wondering vaguely what she was so worried about.

The world spun again, and suddenly I was looking at the sky. Then I was looking at nothing at all.

o o o o o o

My head ached. I was sitting on my bed, stringing my fiddle, and trying to ignore the faint thrum at the base of my skull. Elanee had exhausted herself trying to save my brains from spilling out the back of my cracked skull; as it was, she only managed to stop the bleeding and mend some of the damage before dropping herself, and Casavir had to take over to fix the rest.

Still, I had been in my room the entire day. My hands were still stiff; Lorne had broken the left, and the right had taken almost as bad of a beating. Once again, I thanked any god listening for blessing my life with magic. If it weren't for healing spells, I'd be stone cold dead. _And Grobnar would have my stuff._

The door opened, and Shandra poked her head in. "How're you feeling?"

I tied off the last string, and grinned at her. "I have a fiddle again; my day is complete."

"What, killing Lorne Starling and almost dying yourself wasn't enough?" She smiled wryly, and slipped into the room. "You look _good_, compared to how you looked ealier. Axle stopped by, said that he was going to come to the party tonight."

I arched an eyebrow. "Party?"

"Yes, didn't...oh. Right. You were sleeping."

"I was _unconcious_."

"Okay, so you were 'unconcious', and snoring like a bear in mid-winter." She sat on the edge of my bed, facing me. "Anyway, Duncan is sprucing up the tavern and thought that he'd kind of throw you a victory celebration. Everyone wanted to, at the arena. Celebrate, I mean. I think almost everyone in the entire city was pulling behind you. He's even asked a few other bards to come tonight, since he figured you wouldn't be up to playing the entire thing all by yourself." She looked at me, obviously searching for some sign that I was about to fall apart at the seams.

I blinked, and the thought of warm ale, music, and dancing banished the afterthought of my headache. "Hmmm. That doesn't sound like such a bad idea. I could have a chance to play this thing..."

Shandra looked down at the fiddle in my lap, and her eyebrows rose a notch. She looked back up at me. "Where'd you get that? It's awfully pretty." Her voice was treacherously innocent.

I snorted at her, and swumg my legs over the bed, struggling to my feet. "None of your business." I stood slowly, carefully, but the world stayed steady and I exhaled in relief.

Shandra laughed. "Yeah, that's where I thought you got it." She stood up herself. "Well, you've got a few hours to clean yourself up a bit, I suppose."

I frowned at her. "I am cleaned up."

"No, I mean, 'fixed' up. Oh for heaven's sakes, it's a damn celebration. And you'll be playing in front of people! Surely you don't think you can just wear...well, that." She gestured at my leathers. They were cut dramatically, and they looked good on me, but they were still leather, and their sole purpose was to act as my armor.

I got a panicked look on my face. "I don't have anything else."

Shandra rolled her eyes. "I grew up in _Highcliff_, and I can't believe I know more about this than you. Fine; go wash yourself, curl your hair a bit, and I'll be back." She left my room, muttering to herself.

I tuned my fiddle while I waited for my bath water to heat, going over my repetoire in my head. I owed someone a song, and I think I had just the one picked out.


	10. Fiddler Fair

"Harper!"

I jumped anxiously. I have been listening to people bustle into the tavern for the past half-hour, and Shandra still wasn't anywhere to be found. I had dutifully curled my hair into long, lazy ringlets, and after half an hour of brushing the damn things out of my eyes, I'd pinned the front portion back away from my face, sophistication be damned. Still, it looked nice in the mirror.

I quickly got up and cracked the door to my room; Shandra stood outside, a sackcloth over one arm. "Where have you been?!"

"Look, it took me a bit of time, ok?" She slipped into the room. "But Ophala was heated about you having to fight Lorne, and she was just _dying_ to do a favor for you, so..."

"Wait...wait, wait, _wait. _You got me a dress from _Ophala_?" My voice had gone up an octave, and the end of my sentence was a virtual squeak.

She said hurriedly, "Now, calm down, what she gave me was actually very...er...tasteful."

I stared at her coldly. She quickly threw the sackcloth onto the bed and began unwrapping it. The last peice peeled back to reveal scarlet fabric that looked touchably soft in the lamp-light. I picked it up and held it aloft, shaking out the folds.

Shandra watched my face apprehensively. "Well?! Put it on! I've been dying to see what you look like wearing it ever since I left the Mask."

I glanced at her suspiciously. "And what are you wearing?"

She snorted at me. "Some of us are_ ladies_, and own _more_ than one appropriate outfit for occasions like these. It just happens that my things were...well, burned to the ground, but suffice it to say that I have something to wear, and so do the others."

I looked at the garment dubiously. "A lot of my scars are going to show."

"So what? Woman, you just killed _Lorne_; no one's going to care."

Five minutes later, I stood in front of the mirror in my room; A scarlet bodice hugged my torso, with long sleeves that fell off my shoulders and left them bare, then ran down the lengths of my arms, fitted until they flared slightly at my wrists. The layered, slightly full skirt ended at my knees, and there were slits around it in it's entirety that probably exposed a lot more leg than I was comfortable with when I walked. The fabric was something thick and deliciously soft; I had never owned anything so finely made. A pair of reddish brown, delicately made boots that (thankfully) reached the middle of my thighs sat by the edge of the bed, ready to be worn.

I looked at Shandra in askance. "My legs are showing."

"So _what? _You looked amazing! Look, everyone knows what a good fighter you are, and how smart you are, and how powerful your music is, etcetera, etcetera. No one is going to think twice about seeing you dressed up."

I laughed. "You mean dressed down? I just hope Duncan keeps the fire going, else I'll freeze to death."

"Well, just get your boots on and get out there, will you? I have to get changed." She smiled at me. "You look fine, go have fun! You've earned this more than anyone."

She left me to struggle into the impossibly complicated boots. My mind was buzzling slightly; I had to admit I was excited. It had been ages when I'd played for an audience; last time I did was the High Harvest fair at West Harbor, right before the attack. I had been full to the brim with the taste of victory and had played for hours, and people had danced and laughed and called for more...

I felt a twinge of sadness when I realized a lot of those people were dead now. I shook my head, and put thoughts like that behind me, at least for now.

When I stepped into the common room, it was already full; I saw Axle in the back corner by the fire, laughing at something Red-Handed Billy was doing at the table...I couldn't tell what, since the gambler's back was to me. There was Gnosher, pounding shots with Neeshka and Khelgar at the bar while Sal was hurriedly trying to keep up. Nanley Lucas was playing his lute, but no one was really dancing yet. Casavir was speaking animatedly to Elanee, who kept glancing at the dance floor. I remembered Shandra's words; _Elanee was actually dancing! _and chuckled. Maybe I wouldn't miss it, this time.

Ah, there was Comely Finn, playing darts with Wetherly; as far as Watch Hounds went, they weren't bad men. Two of Moire's boys, Fenri and Low Lucan, caught side of me, and shouted a raucous greeting across the room, and Lucan included something descriptively embarasing about my dress, which caused every head to turn in my direction. Instantly, I was surrounded by Axle's men; handshakes, pats-on the back, friendly shoves, and a chorus of voices all conveying the same thought; Congratulations, you're alive!

Soon I was laughing helplessly; Jinx was trying to tell me about how he had tried to sneak down into the arena while everyone was busy keeping me alive, so that he could look through Lorne's pockets, but then Nevalle caught him and called for someone to come arrest him, and then Fenri tried to distract him by throwing the left over meat-pastie he had been carrying in his pocket straight into Nevalle's eye, and here Fenri cut in and attempted to tell his side of the story, and Jinx got angry and started shouting, and the other boys were laughing uproariously...

A cool hand took mine and very gently pulled me from the middle of them. I looked up in to Casavir's face, feeling a slow smile curl my lips. I performed a mock curtsey. "Good eve, sir knight."

Elanee looked amused. "You look pleased with yourself."

I didn't think Casavir had blinked yet; his eyes wouldn't leave mine. "You look wonderul."

"I...um..." A flush crept into my face. "Thanks. It's all Shandra's fault."

"Hmph. I can see the very..._human_...taste in clothing on you, at least." Elanee was wearing something shimmery and green and entirely elven in cut and style, and it suited her quite well, but she was looking at my exposed skin with a slight dissaproving frown.

I felt very concious of every scar, not excluding the very visible one that ran like a white crescent from my right collarbone and dissappeared down into my bodice. I quickly smiled at her. "I haven't been able to thank you, for healing me. You saved my life."

Elanee blinked, disarmed. Then she returned my smile with a confused one of her own. "I would have done nothing less for you, my friend. I'm just glad you made it through that bloody affair victorious."

"We all are," rumbled Casavir gently, and I couldn't bring myself to look into his face again. His eyes held a heat that I had never seen before, and it unnerved me no small amount. I cleared my throat and smiled, flustered.

"Excuse me for a moment." I moved to the bar and placed my wrapped fiddle behind it, motioning to Sal that I would be leaving it there for now. He stared at me, his eyebrows almost up to his hair-line. Khelgar, waiting for his next glass to be filled, glanced over and me and spluttered.

"Ye Gods!" He grinned. "Who are ye, my lady, and what have ye done with our bard?"

I laughed and leaned on the bar. "She's back in her room, nursing her aches. She asked me to come here in her stead, and clarified further that anything that I did tonight would in no way be connected with her in the morning."

Neeshka choked on her drink, laughing. Gnosher whistled appreciatively. "Ye look good, Red," the half orc said, raising his glass. "Oy Sal, get Harper a drink already! She's about to faint from her overwhelming sobriety!"

Khelgar raised an eyebrow at Gnosher. "Sobriety? I'm surprised you got that word out in one peice, orc."

"Aye, me too. How about you stop waterin' down me ale, Sal?" Gnosher drained his class, and then turned to Neeshka, holding out his elbow in a courtly fashion. I snickered when I noticed he was swaying slightly.

"May I have this dance, me lady?"

Neeshka grinned cheekily, and took his arm. They strode out into the middle of the floor, and Nanley took the cue and began playing an upbeat tempo. Sal handed me a drink. "Duncan'll kill ya when he sees what you're wearing," he whispered to me, but he was grinning. I sat next to Khelgar and shouted encouragement along with everyone else to the dancers, who now numberd eight, and who were doing a good job of testing the durability of Duncan's floor. After a few songs, Nanley waved himself off, protesting that his fingers were killing him.

A shout went up. "Harper! Play something!" "Get her over here, she's been hiding ever since she walked in!"

Sal thrust my fiddle into my hands, and I whispered something into his ear. He lifted a stool onto the bar, and helped me up, where I sat, legs crossed and fiddle poised under my chin. I watched as a few more people filed on to the dance floor, and almost lost my bearing when I saw Shandra walk up to Casavir and pull him out, as well. I just chuckled to myself, placed the bow against the strings...and flew.

The first dance was an old Lightfoot reel, and it was damn fast. My bow flew until I swore I smelled sparks, and over the stomping of the dancers' feet I heard laughter and cheering as Khelgar jumped down from the bar and strode out on to the floor with Elanee. Next was another fast number, and then Khelgar breathlessly requested that I play something dwarven and slower, or else he was going to die. So I played "Iron on the Door" and "Fire Mountain," and then I took note that many people were stopping to take a break, and the floor was clearing out a bit.

I saw a shadow move at the back of the room. Bishop sat by Sand at a table at the edge of the crowd of dancers, a mug in his hand. I could feel his eyes on me from across the room, felt them take in my smooth, bare shoulders, the flash of skin between the folds of my skirt, my long tumble of scarlet curls. I narrowed my eyes, heart beating fast, then looked down at the small crowd gathering at the bar where I was perched. I started to play, and a few of the people recognized the song and began clapping along to it. After the first refrain, I started singing;

_"A northman clad in kilt left the bar one evening fair,_

_and one could tell by how he walked that he'd drunk more than his share..."_

A chorus of encouraging shouts accompanied this line, and I warmed up to the crowd as they realized the general tone of what I was singing. Anyone in a bar can relate to a musician singing about someone _else_ in a bar. It's philosophical. Kind of.

_"He stumbled 'round until he could no longer keep his feet,_

_then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street."_

This part of the verse was a string of "Ring-ding-diddle-diddle's" and "Ray-dee-low's" that seem to run rampant in every countryside drinking song ever written, and everyone joined in with me on that part. As I went on with the song, the crowd began singing what they remembered from earlier verses, as well, until I was only leading the chorus while everyone else shouted it to the rooftops.

_"About that time, two young and lovely girls just happened by_

_One says to the other with a twinkle in her eye,_

_'See young sleeping northman, so strong and handsome built,_

_I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt?"_

_"They crept up on the sleeping northman, quiet as could be._

_Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see_

_And there behold, for them to view, beneath his clannish skirt_

_was nothing more than the gods had graced him with upon his birth."_

Someone whistled, and someone else howled appreciatively, which had the whole room laughing as I continued on;

"_They marveled for a minute, then one said, 'We must be gone.'_

_'Let's leave a present for our friend, before we move alone.'_

_As a gift, they left a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow_

_Around the bonney star the man's kilt did lift and show;"_

My voice came out a little hoarse at the end of that line; Khelgar was joining in to the "Ring-dye-diddle" part with glorious abandon, hoisting his mug into the air, and I was fighting down the laughter. One more verse!! I could do it.

_"Well the Northman woke to Nature's call, and stumbled towards the trees_

_Behind the bush, he lifts his kilt, and gawks at what he sees,_

_And in a startled voice, he says, to what's before his eyes,_

_"Oh, Lad, I don't know where ya been...but I see ye won first prize!'"_

The crowd roared with laughter and cheering, and we all ended the song with a rousing rendition of the chorus. I climbed down from the bar, my throat aching; I hadn't sang in a while, and trying to be heard over the noise of the crowd was taxing. "Sal," I said huskily, "Drink! Please!"

Nanley took up the slack again, this time with Grobnar at his side, and the dancing began once more. Sal was shaking with tears of mirth. "I ain't ever heard that one before, Harper," he said, laughing as I downed the warm ale. "If I'd a known all I had to do to get some attention from a woman was wear a skirt, I'd have done it a long time ago!"

I chuckled. "Life isn't like the songs, unfortunately," I said. "I think you're better off sticking with trousers."

A rough hand pressed against the bare skin of my shoulder, and a voice said in my ear from behind me, "That was a rather impious song, lady bard."

I turned and looked up into his face, eyebrows raised, and laughed slightly. "Casavir doesn't complain about it, but you do? The world must have gone inside out while I was sleeping."

He smiled slightly at that. "I think the paladin is still trying to work out the fact that you have a body underneath all that leather you wear. He might not have heard the song at all." He placed both of his hands on the bartop, one on either side of me, until my back pressed against the edge of the counter. He bent close to my ear, his voice rough. "I, however, worked out that fact on my own."

Oh, _shite_. I was caught, now, wasn't I? Sal had moved down to the other end of the bar, and Bishop's hand was trailing up from the counter to my arm, sliding across exposed skin until I thought my insides couldn't twist themselves any tighter...

"Excuse me..."

We both looked up, startled. I must have looked as guilty as I felt, for Sand was standing there, eyebrow raised. Bishop's face looked thunderous. "What do you _want_, wizard?" he practically snarled.

"What I want, ranger, has nothing to do with you, fortunately." Sand turned from him, dismissing Bishop from his aknowledgement. "Harper, would you like to dance?"

"I..dance? I mean, of course Sand!" My voice sounded a little high in my ears, but I took the elf's proffered hand, and slid out from under Bishop's grasp. At least, for now...

Sand led me on to the floor, and whispered something to Nanley, who nodded. The lutist began an upbeat, elven court dance, and the only way I even vaguely knew the steps was thanks to Retta Starling back in West Harbor; she had grown up in Neverwinter and the city was alive with the latest dance steps. As I was one of the only females in the village who had shown even the remotest interest in dancing, she had taught me everything...and I mean _everything_...she knew. I managed not to completely embarrass myself, and Sand was smiling appreciatively, when the dance ended and Nanley began another one of his fast numbers.

I could feel Bishop's eyes on me; he stalked through the edge of the crowd, watching me. Before Sand could protest, I grabbed his hands and we were off, my hair and skirts flying behind us as we joined the latest group of dancers on the floor. My blood was thundering through my body, and I danced with a vigor I didn't know I had anymore; all the weariness and pain of the last month was stamped out through the soles of my boots and dissappeared under the floor, forgotten. Sand finally excused himself, laughing at me in a rare delight. "You're too much for me, girl," he said warmly. "I'm too old for this sort of thing anymore."

"Oh, don't lie," I said, but he only smiled and retreated to the bar.

I had lost sight of Bishop, and breathed a little easier. I didn't understand what the hell was wrong with me; his nature made me a little wary about physical contact with him, I suppose. That much was easy to figure out. _Okay._ But I had to admit to myself that I wanted him. _ Badly_. And then there was that fiddle...who would orchestrate such an elaborate method of getting someone in their bed? Was there more to it than that? Why the hells was this so frustrating?! I was getting more and more entangled in this web every passing day, and...

"Oy, Harper! It's your turn, girl."

Nanley was taking another break, and Sal shoved my fiddle into my hands. "Up you go, girl."

I started playing again, perched on my stool on the bar, and the dancing continued. I still didn't see Bishop in the crowd. It was going to be a long night.

And it was far from being over.


	11. Premeditation

Most of the patrons had filed home for the night, and Sal was sealing the kegs for the morning; which, in all fairness, was only a few hours away. I should be exhausted...but my spirit felt light. I had sung nonsense songs about drunken dwarves chasing fairies, I had sung the Ballad of Sir Osis and his many misdeeds three times so far; twice requested by Axle, who, when drunk, did a fairly good pirate impression. I had danced, and had partaken of my fair share of spirits, and I had laughed, and flirted, and played one game of dice, which I lost horribly at. I was feeling...well, _happy_. And maybe a little drunk.

So when Vis the Butcher requested one last song, "And don't worry about making it a fast one, my head's ringing enough as it is," I remembered the Heartwood lullaby. First song I learned, if I remember it right. It was simple enough that as a novice musician I had grasped it fairly quickly, but the notes were pure and beautiful, and I thought maybe my heart needed a little tugging before I sent myself off to bed. So I placed the bow against the strings, and soon the slow, haunting melody filled the tavern.

I'll confess I threw a little magic in there with it; not much, not nearly enough to be noticed by even a hedgewizard; but enough so that when the notes touched their ears, in their mind's eye they saw the first place their feet had trodden as children. If they never had mothers, then a mother's voice called to them; if love eluded them, then they remembered a lover's kiss. I shut my eyes, playing the song by feel, and drove my whole heart in to it. Tree's whispered in a tavern where the wood had long been silenced, and in the barest flicker of moments, my own violin seemed to sing on it's own, the notes rippling over me in a soft caress; like the hands of the one who had made it for me.

When the song ended, and the last notes hung in the air, I opened my eyes. Vis and many other patrons were weeping quietly; Low Lucan's face was buried in his hands. When I looked at Sal, he was wiping his eyes briskly.

Well, no applause needed after a reaction like that. I climbed down from the bar, re-wrapping my violin. Sal nodded to me. "That was...that was nice, Harper." He cleared his throat. "You off to bed, now?"

"Aye, I'll go say goodbye to the boys. You need any help, Sal?"

"Nah, get out of here, girl. I get paid to do this." He scowled. "Apparently."

I smiled and saw everyone out; Low Lucan patted my arm on his way through the door. "You're a good soul, Harper Kross! A good soul!" His eyes looked so sad and forlorn that I was beginning to wonder if playing the Heartwood was such a good idea...

I shut and locked the door after the last patron had trudged outside. Turning, I was face to face with Karnwyr, who stared at me, his golden eyes glowing slightly in the dark. I quirked an eyebrow, and reached out my hand, sinking my fingers in his thick fur for his customary scratch, but he pulled away. He turned and took a few steps towards the back door, then stopped and looked at me.

I blinked. Well, one had to be an idiot to not understand that, but I was a little wary. Still...out of the wolf and the ranger, Karnwyr was usually the more civil one, so I followed, pushing the back door open for him and watching as he trotted across the street, disappearing around the corner.

_Damn it!_ Where was he going? I glanced up and down the road, then hurried after him, my skirts swishing. I saw his tail disappear around another corner, and I followed, barely keeping up with him as he dodged down back alleys and around buildings.

He slipped through the city gate behind the Sunken Flagon's street, and I barely glanced at the sleepy gate guards as I followed; they looked slightly more alert as I walked by, taking note of my red dress and general lack of outerwear. Karnwyr strode down the road a ways, then abruptly turned off into the woods.

Gods all _mighty_...well, I had followed him this far, but I ruefully realized that my dress wasn't going to last long in these woods. I slid into the trees after him, dodging undergrowth, wondering if I could risk calling out to the wolf to get him to slow down a bit. His shadowy figure was getting farther and farther ahead of me...and was that smoke I smelled?

I stepped into the smallest, most densely covered clearing I'd seen. A small fire, crackling merrily, lit the cleared space with an amber glow, and banished some of the night chill off of my skin. Karnwyr trotted back to me, whined, licked my hand, and then disappeared into the woods. I stayed put; somehow I had a feeling this was where he wanted me.

And sure enough, the trees behind me rustled, and Bishop dropped out of their branches. I turned at the sound of his voice. "I thought I said not to play any of that elven tripe."

He stalked towards me in the firelight, a dangerous light in his eyes. "You sure like to run away, bard," he growled; he stepped close to me, light and shadow slithering across his face as the flames danced. "Something you're scared of?"

I could feel anger...and something else...boiling up inside of me, and I glared at him. "This was well planned out, ranger. Tell me, do you do this for all your mistresses, or only the ones who have enough of a brain to try and stay away from you?"

"Oh, you_ wound_ me, songbird," he chuckled; the sound trickled over my skin like warm velvet. "The last I recall, I was not the instigator in the Temple of Tyr."

Ouch. He had me there, but I set my jaw stubbornly and lifted my chin. "I was about to face death. I don't have to answer for my actions to you."

He reached out, traced his fingers down the side of my cheek, his eyes on mine. "Aye, you keep telling yourself that, bard. But you and I, we're honest with ourselves; maybe it's time you looked at the truth you've been running from."

I turned away from him abruptly, and started walking, seething. _Of al the low down, sneaking, rotten, manipulating._..I was not going to be wrapped around his finger like some tool...

"Harper."

I stopped.

For as long as I'd known him, he hadn't ever called me by name. Some insultingly teasing nickname has taken precedence when he spoke to me, and I hadn't even realized how deeply I was in this until my name passed his lips and struck me like lightning. I couldn't have moved if I had wanted to. I felt him behind me, felt him brush away my long tumble of hair with the back of his hand, felt his lips against the nape of my neck. I shivered as the kiss trailed up to my sharply pointed ear, and he whispered,"Stay."

I remember walking as if in a daze, letting him lead me back to the fire. I remember vaguely noting the furs laid out on the ground as he pulled me down on to them, feeling slightly amused that he had planned this so well. I remember his mouth, hot and hungry, sliding against mine, his fingers deftly undoing the various laces and hooks on a dress that had taken me forever to put on. My hands seemed to move of their own volition, undoing his clothing, brushing against his skin; he exhaled long and low as my searching fingers slid below his navel. Suddenly I saw the flash of a blade in the firelight, and I found myself bare to the night air, ribbons of scarlet falling away from me.

How could I describe such a thing? I remember sinking my fingers into his thick, maple-colored hair, muffling my cries against the soft part of his neck while a river of sensations pierced through me. His hands were never still; his lips found every inch of my skin. I remember his erratic, warm breathing against my ear as his hand slid behind my back, lifting me up, my body pressing against his in an arch; every muscle on his frame etched it's outline against mine, burned like a brand. I remember every movement, every demanding, needful thrust that I countered with fierce ripostes of my own. I remember it all, still. I'd never forget.

When we were spent at last, I watched the firelight dance across his skin. His eyes were fathomless as he looked down at me, fingers brushing my hair back from my forehead. "Girl," he growled, "you are a witch."

I smiled at him, my heart light and heavy at the same time. "How do you figure that? The fire, the animal skins, these woods, are yours, ranger, not mine."

He didn't answer, and my puzzlement was soon erased as one of the fur skins was pulled over me, and I was enveloped in warmth and softness, a calloused hand resting on my shoulder until my eyes closed and I slipped into sleep.

o o o o o o

I had just dropped into my room via the window, the mid-morning sun blazing merrily away outside, when my door opened. Shandra stepped in, as was her wont to enter my room completely uninvited, and as soon as she saw me her eyebrows shot up.

I crossed my arms, daring her to say something. I was dressed in a pair of trews and a man's shirt (need I say who's?) and my hair was a general mess. The ruined dress lay on the windowsill behind me, wrapped in fur; I'd have to pay Ophala for it. _But it had been worth it._ The thought came unbidden to my head, and I couldn't stop myself from grinning. Karnwyr had led me back to the city earlier, and even as I left the clearing I had felt Bishop's eyes follow my movements, his clothes on my back.

Shandra cleared her throat. "They, uh...need you up front. Something's happened to Aldanon, and Lord Nasher wants to see you."

Ah yes. Reality was here, knocking insistently. "All right. Give me a bit to get cleaned up, and I'll be out there shortly."

"Um...hang on a moment." Shandra walked towards me, and pulled a few leaves out of my hair. She winked at me. "I'm not quite sure how I feel about this, since you know my opinion of the man, but...well, be careful, ok?" She turned to go, calling over her shoulder, "And stop smiling! You look like you have a fish-hook stuck in your mouth."


	12. A pawn of kings

I was sober as the hells as we made our way from Aldanon's manse. Kidnapped. Right from under our noses. I figured who Nasher would send after him, but in all fairness I felt beholden to Aldanon. He was like the mind-addled uncle I had never had. Well; halfway had, since Duncan sometimes made me wonder.

When we entered Castle Neverwinter, Nevalle rushed to us, his face worried. "Is he...?

"Gone." I sighed. "His household are all right, and the thieves are...well, dealt with, but the wizard is gone. His manservant mentioned something about Aldanon's research with the shards?"

Nevalle shook his head. "Wizardry is beyond me."

"Among many other things." muttered Sand. Nevalle ignored him.

"I'll take you in to his Lordship right now; he's been speaking with the new Luskan Ambassador, but he'll want to hear this."

I was thunderstruck as I followed him. _New_ Luskan ambassador? After the hells they put me, all of us, through, and Nasher was letting another Luskan dog through the gates?

When we entered the throne room, Nevalle bowed, along with some of my more tradition-weighted companions. My back remained ram-rod straight; pretty words and courtly flourishes, I had in aces, but when it came to Nasher's work for me I was a warrior, and Daeghun had once told me that warriors don't bow, lest you miss your opponent's move.

Nasher raised an eyebrow at me, but his next words were directed at the short, plump, frumpy looking woman at the base of the dias. "Sydney, I would like you to meet Squire Harper. She was the recent...er...defendant in Torio Claven's trial."

"Doesn't he mean 'survivor of Luskan's poorly-coordinated plot to kill her?'" muttered Bishop sourly; Nevalle glared daggers at him.

"Lord Nasher, what is a Luskan ambassador doing here? I thought they were thrown out of the city after the duel?" Shandra kept her voice polite, but she looked at Sydney like one looks at a stubborn rat that continuously gets into the bread cupboard and refuses to be tempted into the mouse-traps.

"If I may answer for myself, Lord Nasher?" Sydney looked at me; there was a curious, hungry light in her eyes that was disturbing, but her voice was even as she spoke. "I came here because certain crimes have been connected to Luskan via a few individuals. I am here to state that Luskan had no involvement in the actions of these individuals, and furthermore we remove ourselves from any connection with their future actions whasoever..."

"You're joking!" I had spoken without thinking, true, but this...woman...was impossibly smug. "You deny everything that happened at Ember as being connected to Luskan?!"

"That is correct. It seems a self-styled 'Master of the Fifth-Tower' named Black Garius was behind the massacre at Ember."

"Squire, that is enough." Nasher interjected when he saw the storm brewing on my face. I opened my mouth, but Nevalle kicked me surreptitiously in the shin. I _seethed._

"Lord Nasher, Harper is right!" Shandra stepped up next to me. "Luskan had to know about the attack on Ember, and they did nothing..."

"Shandra Jerro," sighed Nasher. "The strength of Neverwinter is in it's citizens, and you show me that now." He leaned forward, looking directly in her eyes. "But now is not the time. You must trust me that the murderer of Ember will pay for his crimes, and that right now our attention is needed."

Sydney sniffed disdainfully. "Yes, well, as I was telling Lord Nasher before I was interrupted, our spies have informed us that Black Garius, the man who orchestrated the entire farce of a trial against you, has infiltrated an old, abandoned keep on Neverwinter lands. Crossroad Keep, I believe it's called. Some farmers are all that live there; or were living there, until last night, when I presume they were killed as Garius' forces overtook the land." Sydney bowed formally to Lord Nasher. "I will leave you to do what you will with this information, my lord." She turned, and with one more raking stare at me, left the throne room, her assistant stumbling behind her.

Lord Nasher looked at me. "Aldanon?"

"Kidnapped." I frowned. "For his research, I have no doubt."

"I'm having a sinking feeling that it might be connected to what the new 'ambassador' reported. If anyone can sneak a gang of thieves into the city and kidnap a powerful mage right out from under the watch's nose, it would be someone like Garius."

I snorted derisively. "You'd be surprised at what all happens right under the watch's nose, Sir Nevalle." I thought for a moment. "But you could be right about Black Garius having something to do with it. Seems all too convenient for me that right as we get a report of activity, one of the city's leading researchers and archivers of knowledge is kidnapped."

"I need you to go to Crossroad Keep, Squire Harper. It seems all of our answers lie there." Nasher nodded to the back of the room. We all turned, and watched as a group of Many-Starred-Cloaks made their way in. Their leader, a pale haired moon-elf, nodded to me, and then bowed to Nasher.

Lord Nasher continued, "My wizards will meet you there. I need this 'Black Garius' stopped, before he gains a foot-hold in our lands. Do this, and all of Neverwinter will be in your debt." Nasher rubbed his forehead, suddenly looking much, much older. "At the very least, Neverwinter will be_ alive_."

I was beginning to feel very much a pawn of the nobles. _Send the bard and her capable friends, she'll solve the problem._ It seemed the more that I did for anyone, the more they came to rely on me. And the more dangerous each task became. But I merely nodded curtly at Nasher, and turned, leading my companions out of the throne room.

The pale-haired elf caught up with me. "Squire, my name is Vale. My wizards and I will be leaving as soon as we're able, so please don't delay in your travels. I would suggest provisioning for a difficult battle." His face looked grave. "I do not know the strength of Garius' men yet, but I know that he is not styled the 'Master of the Fifth-Tower' for nothing." He bowed to me. "May the gods speed you on your travels."

Nevalle was next. "Here's a map," he said abruptly. "It's farther south, closer to the Mere, so you might know the lands better than I do, but this should help you get there. Vale was right, you need to leave as soon as possible." His expression softened somewhat, and he reached out, squeezing my shoulder. "It was a fine sight, seeing you rout that Luskan scumbag Lorne; make sure you keep yourself in one piece, all right?" He watched as we walked out.

We set out on the road an hour later, Bishop leading with Elanee slightly behind him, since they both knew the woods better than anyone. I found my eyes kept moving to him as we walked, watching the muscles bunch and stretch under his armor as he cleared the path ahead for the rest of us. Once, when stopped for a rest, he stood apart, sniffing the air as he gazed into the woods. The shadow-dappled sunlight flickered as a breeze blew and shook the leaves of the trees around us, and I had to catch my breath; he seemed taller, more powerful in the midst of the forests, and more relaxed and at ease with himself now than I'd ever seen him. He turned to look at me, feeling my gaze; he smirked knowingly, but his eyes were full of an intensity, a smoldering heat that made me think of flickering firelight and his hands on my skin. I flushed and turned away, feeling that involuntary smile creep into my lips. I cleared my throat and stood, shouldering my pack. I had the map, and wood elven blood, and I didn't trust my eyes to keep to themselves while walking behind a certain ranger, so I merely announced quietly "Follow me," and took off.

Khelgar swore profusely as we began to walk again. "Have we made enough coin to buy some damn horses already?"

"No," replied Sand sourly, "I believe it all goes to filling the yawning abyss that is your stomach."

"You know, if you all just listened to me, I have a few ideas that would get us plenty of coin..."

"We aren't going to debase ourselves just for money, Neeshka," said Casavir sternly.

"And money isn't what's important here," interjected Elanee. "If we don't solve these problems plaguing the land, coin and horses will be meaningless."

"My gods, do you ever stop?" Qara's voice floated up from the back. " 'Oh, the land is suffering, the animals are all insane and they attack me instead of coming up for a cuddle! We must _do _something!' "

"I knew a dog once that attacked me all the time, and then I stopped carrying a shank of raw lamb with me everywhere I went, although I started doing that to begin with because.." chattered Grobnar.

I walked quietly, listening to them bicker, joke, laugh, and insult each other, anything to keep their minds off of what we were really doing. Who could begrudge them that? The only one not saying anything, following silently behind me like a shadow, was Bishop. He remained quiet.

As did I.


	13. The Ritual

"Grobnar I need you in the back with Qara; you'll just be in the way anywhere else and I need all the spells I can get," I whispered fiercely. I was crouched behind an old, rotting wooden door that (supposedly) let to the interior of Crossroad Keep. I found it ironic that we had a plethora of Many-Starred-Cloaks at our command and not a one of them could open the damn front gate. So who's job was it to find a different passage in and...well, basically, unlock the door?

I was staring into a small sea of faces, issuing hissing instructions while trying to listen for anything on the other side of the door. "And Neeshka, I need you to see if you can distract whoever or whatever is holding that gate shut so Vale can get in. I'd rather have them fighting with us when we do have to fight. "

"And what shall _I _do, bard? Trim my nails?"

I looked up into Bishop's face in the near-darkness. "Trim their heads off their damn necks. And don't die." My voice came out forceful, thick with feeling, and I turned quickly, thankful it was dark and Bishop's eyes were human. Carefully, with agonizing slowness, I pushed against the hinges, and winced as the bolts nearly screamed with protest.

"Oops," whispered Neeshka, who's job it had been to oil the hinges. "Sorry, got distracted by all the instructions..."

"Is anyone there?" A quavering voice called out in the light of what looked like a library, if said library had been attacked by a book-eating umber hulk. I slipped inside carefully, motioning the others to stay put, and tip-toed around the corner. Sure enough, there Aldanon sat, cross-legged on the floor with a look of childish delight on his face as he glanced up from a crumbling tome. "Have you ever seen a library like this before?"

I signaled, and my companions crowded in after me. "Like this?" I gazed around the disastrous room. "No. I can honestly say I've never seen a library like this before."

"I have!" piped in Grobnar.

"Shut up, gnome," said Bishop.

"All right!"

"Look, Master Aldanon..." I knelt next to him in the dust. "We're here to rescue you. Are you all right? Have they hurt you?"

"Rescue me? Oh, I can't possibly leave right now, I'm helping this young man with a ritual, you see; seemed pretty insistent that he needed it soon, so as you see I must stay and..."

I quirked an eyebrow at the wizard. "Ritual?"

Casavir stepped forward. "We should get him to safety before we start questioning him; for all we know, he could be injured, or..."

I held up an impatient hand in his direction, my eyes on Aldanon. "What kind of ritual?" I pressed. A dooming sense of urgency was falling on me; something was happening, and I was going to know about it.

"Well, it's some silly thing if you ask me. They're trying to steal the power from this King of Shadows creature, sort of switch places with him, rather daft. I told them not to try something like this, dangerous, you know."

_Shite_. "Did you tell them how to perform the ritual?!" I wasn't doing a good job of keeping the panic out of my voice, but Aldanon didn't seem to pick up on it.

"Well yes, they asked me to figure out how it worked. It's quite simple really; the trick is not losing your focus, or else the whole thing'll just blow up in your face."

I stood quickly. "Time to go," I said. "Master Aldanon, you need to leave the way we came and wait for me at the front of the keep, all right?"

"All right, but do please try to keep this library intact. I would love to come back here some time and go through-"

"Go! _Now_!"

He blinked at me in surprise, said _hmph_, and hurried out behind us. I kicked my way through several layers of rotting paper to the other door, and listened, ear pressed against it. I could hear voices.

I glanced back at my companions, and nodded. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back, made a lightning fast prayer to Deneir, and slammed my booted foot into the door, sending it rocking back on it's hinges.

The next few minutes were the typical shouting, confusion, and classic foray in blood and violence in which I almost lost an ear and took a morning-star in my kneecap, which left me with a lovely limp. And when Neeshka finally managed to stab one of the mages in the leg and interrupt his spell causing the gate to stick shut, it was a clamor of battling magics and explosions, and I could barely see enough to swing my blade, let alone at someone who I could barely recognize as an enemy. When the magefire finally cleared, Vale was standing in the midst of smoking, charred bodies, and he was grinning at me triumphantly.

I said, breathlessly. "Thank you for saving our lives. Please heal us, before we all bleed out on the damn floor."

I limped over to him as he bent down over Grobnar, who, like always, ignored what I had told him and had a nasty scalp wound. He grinned at me cheerfully through a mask of blood. "I say, I should start keeping track of all these fights! I might even notch my crossbow, like Sir Bishop does his longbow."

I quirked an eyebrow at him, watching as his wound closed before my eyes in response to Vale's chanting. "Notch? What, like counting your kills?" I smiled at that. "How many people do you plan on killing, Grobnar?"

"Well, I don't tend to make it a hobby for pleasure, but I do seem to be making quite a name for myself. I could see the fear in their eyes as I charged them with Old Hobshanks, here." Grobnar patted the incredibly ornate looking crossbow; it had more knobs, wheels, cogs, gears, and levers on it than any contraption that I'd ever seen. The one thing I doubted it did have was a safety catch.

"Aye. I can see how they'd be terrified." I tried to keep my voice level, but I heard Khelgar snickering off to my right. Vale glanced at my knee in dismay, and immediately began the chant again, this time his hand on my leg.

I sighed happily as the spell took effect, and walked a few paces experimentally. Vale's other 'Cloaks were aiding my companions, and when we were all generally patched up, we began moving again. We were met with dark hallways and oppressive silence; and somewhere in the distance, I imagined I heard chanting. At first I thought I was imagining it in my worry, but then Bishop whispered in my ear "I hear chanting," and Sand announced "I can feel magic in the air. Someone's casting a spell, and it's a powerful one."

Suddenly, a wave of nausea shot through me and I bent over, clutching my aching stomach. My head reeled, and I could tell from the general sounds of dismay that I was not the only one experiencing this. Vale said in a quavering voice, "They're performing the ritual. We don't have time..."

_BOOM_. The door at the end of the hall burst open, and I heard the _clank, clank, clank _of footsteps. Heavy, metal footsteps.

I turned...an enormous metal blade swept towards me, and I arched backwards , my nose almost touching the ground behind me as the sword slashed the air where my torso had been. I saw jets of magic missle fly over my head as I straightened, and multiple arrows zipped by my ears, thudding into a giant, metal construct. The blade was swinging downwards towards my head again; my scimitars were up, ready to block the blow, but when it came it knocked me onto my back with the force of a mountain behind it.

"Damn it!" I shouted. "Use magic, weapons aren't going to work!"

I rolled as the golem sent another swipe of it's sword-appendage my way, then leapt to my feet, only to dodge yet another attack from the construct. _Did this thing exclusively have it in for me? _ Everyone scattered in my wake and I hurriedly backed up, eyes wide, staring at the gingantic thing that thundered towards me. "I'd appreciate it if you all would _do_ something!" I shouted, leaping aside as the thing took another swing at me. It's blade gouged a hole into the stone wall, sending a shower of sparks into the air.

"Magic!" growled Bishop, giving Qara a none-too-gentle shove.

Sand was shooting magic missles from his fingers, but the golem was taking minimal damage and studiously ignoring them. Sand practically screamed at Qara, "Come on, you useless girl! Don't just stand there!"

She glared at him, but chased after the golem, who was following me around the room as I tried to dance out of the reach of it's sword. A fireball blasted into it's head, and the smell of singed hair filled my nostrils as the flames reached out from the smoldering golem and licked at the end of my braid. I quickly slapped the fire out out, but the distraction was enough; the golem lurched awkwardly forward, still smoking, and the blade drove with a sickening slicing noise straight into my gut.

I stared in shock at the sword protruding from my middle, but constructs have no sense of the dramatic; before I'd had a chance to even register the spreading, white hot lance of pain, the blade was sliding out of me, and my legs seemed to stop working. The golem readied for another blow, and I inhaled with agonizing slowness; the room seemed unusually bright. Elanee screamed "Harper!", Sand swore a string of curses and threw a barrage of magic at the construct, sending it staggering backwards and away from me. Khelgar hurled himself bodily on the thing, the continuous hammering of his axe against it's head filling the room with a clanging noise not unlike the tolling of a bell. I peeled my hand from my midsection and looked at it; it was stained with deep crimson blood, which was spilling out of me in a river.

"Someone heal me," I said; or tried to. My voice came out in a choking gurgle, and I coughed, blood splatterng the flagstones. Elanee thrust a healing spell into the wound, but the blood still came, and I remember vaguely watching the pool spread before my eyes and wondering if the stones would stain from it. Casavir's hands were on my face, cool and dry. "Harper, look at me."

I tried to focus. I was thinking about Deneir, and how I had always followed her, yet my luck had never seemed to improve. I was wondering if this was her doing, if my brush with the githyanki, with Lorne, and right now, were all just hints that she was calling me to her...maybe it was time I just let go of all these wearying responsibilities, and finally slept for good. I began to close my eyes; there were these odd shadows clinging to my vision that wouldn't go away...

"Harper!"

I blinked. Casavir's face had been replaced by Bishop's; his nose was almost touching mine. "Focus, woman. _Right now!"_

His voice was sharp, angry, and I watched as the blur of his face suddenly became clear. I could hear Casavir praying in the background. Bishop waved a hand in front of my eyes. "Still here? Good." His mouth was a firm, thin line; his eyes were furious. "You die, and I will find you, do you hear me? I will personally hunt you down in the Shadow King's army, and kill you _again_ for dying."

My mind was a white static of pain; shadows danced across my vision, laughing at me. I tried to tell him that Deneir would take care of me, but my voice just rattled in my throat. That seemed to make him angrier; he snarled at Casavir. "Pray faster, paladin!"

The clanging stopped in the background, and I saw the head of the blade golem roll across the floor. Then a bolt of sheer bliss shot through me, and I let out a cry; I could _feel_ the magic repairing my wound, like small, white hot lances sewing the skin back together. And then suddenly, it stopped, like a candle snuffed out, and Casavir sat back, exhausted.

I was helped into a sitting position by a multitude of hands. I looked down at the gaping slash still in my stomach; it now looked merely more than a shallow flesh wound, but it hurt like hells, and I was still losing blood, though thankfully I no longer added to the seeping puddle that had collected on the ground. Vale looked worried. "Squire, I'm sorry; all our magics are spent. We cannot heal you from this point onward."

I steadied my breathing, nodding to show I understood. "Khelgar?" I rasped, my voice like sandpaper on stone.

"Here." His face was in front of me. "Knocked the damn thing's head off."

I nodded. Getting to my feet was a struggle, but once I was upright I felt less like a damsel in distress and more like...well, a damsel in distress who was standing on her own two feet with a sword in her hand. The feeling was an important one in my priority listing.

Qara wouldn't meet my eyes until I spoke her name. I nodded at her, ignoring her horrified expression. "We go on."

She swallowed, nodded. I stayed towards the middle of the group this time, as I was near useless as a point man. And I just couldn't resist a solid, heartfelt kick as we passed the broken, immobile form of the defeated construct. Sand was behind me, helping me walk when and if I needed it, and after all that had just happened, he still managed a chuckle.

o o o o o o

_The door to his chamber slammed open, and bodies poured into the room. He ignored them, merely shouting to his bodyguards to dispatch them, before returning to the chant._

_He felt a growing darkness in the room, unseen to naked, mortal eyes. A presence was centering itself on him, and with growing delight, Garius realized that the King of Shadows was here. The ritual was working._

_Vaguely he watched as the red-haired elf, pale and covered in blood, fought with one hand pressed tightly against her side. A voice whispered in his head, _Yes. She's the one. She must be destroyed. She can not be allowed into the heart of our sanctuary._ Garius felt a sliver of doubt in his mind...our sanctuary? Surely, the ritual would obliterate any sentience still attached to the King of Shadows, leaving Garius with all it's power. A tiny particle of unease wound it's way around his heart._

_Suddenly, one of the bodyguards fell backwards from a particularly hefty blow from the tall, black-haired knight; he slammed bodily into one of Garius' mages, and the man stumbled slightly. "You're not concentrating--" Garius began shouting._

_And then the world seemed to collapse._

_Shadows spilled from the corners, jumping on the fallen mage like vultures on a corpse. The mage screamed, causing the others to stop their chanting and stare. As soon as their concentration was broken, the shadows leapt on to them, and Garius knew that he had made an enormous mistake. The mages clawed at him as they fell, and shadowy fiends surrounded him, their arms encircling him in a death-like vise. One of them rose in front of him like a mist, and glowing red eyes filled his vision._

_"Come," it whispered to him. "Our master awaits you."_

o o o o o o

We looked around the debris, silence settling over the remnants of our battle. My left arm was slung over Casavir's shoulder; he had brooked no argument when making himself my temporary crutch, and I was secretly grateful that I didn't have to stand on my own power. I was getting tired of being injured; Khelgar's and Casavir's thick armor looked more and more appealing with every passing day.

Vale sounded pleased. "It's ironic that they were undone by their own ritual," he said smugly, examining the corpses.

"Whatever Garius has been doing, no doubt it's been slowly strengthening the King of Shadows' hold on the Mere, " said Elanee gravely. "I can feel his taint in these walls."

Sand nodded. "Aye, I feel it too."

"I feel nothing," said Qara disdainfully. "I think you both are making it up. Or losing your minds."

"If you had any knowledge whatsoever about matters arcane, you ignorant girl, you'd know better;" Sand's hands had curled into fists during his tirade, and Qara was squaring off in front of him, her face furious.

"Enough," I said, my voice tight with pain. "We need to leave."

"Aye, we need attention for our wounds...Harper, especially." Casavir's voice rumbled next to me, calm and cool.

"Oh, yes. And if your worthless god had any sort of real power, she'd have been healed long ago, along with the rest of us." Bishop's voice was sharper than steel; his eyes burned with pure hatred as he glared at the paladin.

Casavir straightened automatically, a fiery retort on his lips, and I was jarred painfully, standing on my tip-toes. "Vale," I croaked, "get us out of here."

Blinding light surrounded us as the mage obliged, and the walls of the keep disappeared.


	14. Knights and Castles

"She insists on speaking with you," said Nevalle as we walked down into the depths of the Watch House.

"And you have her in jail because...?" said Shandra behind me. She had insisted on coming with me, and so, ironically enough, had Bishop. Casavir had been incredibly solicitous of me during my recovery; I'm positive he was blaming himself for his inability to have fully healed me, and had taken it upon himself to fulfill my every need. I was also positive that it was driving Bishop insane, and that fact was giving me no small amount of guilty pleasure. Whether Bishop's sudden selfless interest in my well-being was a sign of any growing feelings, or simply a reflection of his complete and utter hatred of the paladin, I wasn't quite sure...and I was betting on the latter to be more accurate. But it warmed me to the tips of my hair when he announced he was coming with me, "just to make sure you don't trip and break anything _else_." Shandra had just rolled her eyes.

Nevalle led us past a few cells, replying to Shandra, "Because we don't know whether she's a threat or not, and until we do I'm keeping her behind an inch of barred steel." He glanced as me as I walked stiffly next to him. "You know, I always figured that when you'd finally see these cells, it'd be because I was dragging you in to one."

I grinned at him. "I never figured that, because you never would have caught me." I chuckled at his stony expression. "Besides, Axle's never done any real evil; in fact, the Docks are probably your strongest district right now. If Neverwinter were attacked..."

Nevalle nodded ruefully. "Aye, as much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right. Still, I hate having the people beholden to Axle...

"Beholden to Axle or beholden to Brelaina; you'd still owe someone." I paused as Nevalle unlocked the farthest cell, a shadowy figure moving behind the barred doors. Nevalle pushed the cell open and said, "All right, she's here."

A green-skinned woman stepped into the light; she looked remarkably like a githyanki, but the brilliant blue of her eyes held me, wisdom and compassion swimming in their depths. She was dressed in un-assuming monk's robes, and a sheer veil covered most of her face. I nodded at her uneasily. "What did you want with me?"

"Long have I sought you out, Kalach-Cha," she said; her voice was deep and resonant, and it echoed through my head as she spoke. "Know that my people have felt the stirrings of your enemy, the King of Shadows. My purpose, here, in this place, is to aid you in your fight against him."

My eyes narrowed. "The last time the githyanki attempted to fight the King of Shadows, it would have meant my death."

"I am not githyanki. Know that the githyanki are the enemy of my people, and that in our opposition of them, we are already allied." She stepped closer to me. Shandra sidled slightly in front of me, and Bishop growled; I heard the slithering noise of an arrow being drawn from his quiver. The githyanki paused, and looked me in the eye. "And you must also know this; I have knowledge of an ancient ritual of Illfaern's making, one that will enable you to defeat the shadow."

"You aren't going anywhere until Lord Nasher decides what to do with you," said Nevalle sternly.

I looked into her eyes. There was an infinite sadness, and an unnerving, peaceful detachment in them that reminded me poignantly of Daeghun. I said, quietly, "Will you help us, if I persuade the Watch to let you go?"

"You can't just-" began Nevalle.

I waved my hand at him impatiently. "We need all the help we can get. If she can aid us, then Nasher will have to let her." I nodded at the gith. "Please, tell me. Will you help us?"

"Yes. In exchange for my freedom."

I looked at Nevalle, one eyebrow cocked. He sighed.

"You're responsible for what she does," he said. "Lord Nasher won't like it."

"I'm sure that once we have a way to damage the King of Shadows, maybe even destroy him...well, his 'lordship' might just get over it."

Behind me, Bishop chuckled.

o o o o o o

We stood on the battlements of Crossroad Keep...or what was left of it. The wind buffeted us gently, toying with my loose braid, rustling our cloaks. Nevalle had brought us up here, and then told us to wait for a moment while he took care of something. I leaned against the crumbling stone, looking out over the ruined farm lands around me. Zhjaeve, the githzerai, stood slightly apart from us, lost in her own thoughts, and I studied her closely, thinking of what she had told me earlier. _The Sword of Gith_, I thought, somewhat in awe. Shattered. _And a piece of it, lodged inside my chest..._

Footsteps echoed from the far doorway, and then Nevalle appeared again, panting. He had a scrolled document in his hand, and as he walked towards us, I could feel the heavy hand of fate tapping me on the shoulder...

"Harper Kross," said Nevalle, and his voice took on that imperious tone that he used when speaking to the general assembly at Lord Nasher's court. I cleared my throat nervously and stepped forward, away from my friends, feeling completely ridiculous. I faced Nevalle, my eyebrows up, questioning, but he merely unrolled the scroll in his hand, and began reading.

"To all these who see these presents, greetings; know ye that on this day, imposing special trust in Squire Harper Kross, I do hereby proclaim thee a Captain of Greycloaks, Soldier of Neverwinter, and that henceforth you shall carry out all duties and instructions as befits a soldier of your standing." He looked into my eyes. "Signed, Lord Nasher Aloganndar, Ruler of Neverwinter." He rolled up the promotion warrant, and handed it to me.

I took it in a daze. "Um," I said.

Nevalle actually laughed. "Honestly, I've heard worse promotion speeches than that. But it brings me no small amount of pleasure seeing your sharp tongue rendered speechless for once." He sobered almost immediately, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. "This keep, and the lands surrounding it, are to be your responsibility. Lord Nasher would have you rebuild it, gather troops and prepare the people for battle against this King of Shadows." He turned, and gestured for me to follow. "And thankfully, you won't have to do it alone."

I followed as he lead us all through the crumbling keep. He stopped in the decrepit throne room as a tall, striking, dark-haired woman approached us, her armor polished until it shone. "This is Lieutenant Kana," said Nevalle, and the young woman bowed formally.

"I am honored to serve you, Captain," she said, her voice crisp and succinct.

I couldn't quite stand it. "Don't bow to me, Lieutenant," I said, my voice shaking with laughter. "I'm a singer of tavern songs and barroom ballads. Your courtly formailty isn't nessecary."

She shot a confused glance at Nevalle, who swiftly pulled me away, chuckling. "I've hired a builder by the name of Master Veedle. He's...uh...a bit eccentric, but he should be able to help you with the rebuilding of the keep..."

"My good lady!" said a short, wizened man with huge glasses. He was wearing a brilliant blue coat and scuttled towards me like a beetle, taking my hand and pumping it up and down enthusiastically. "I am so pleased to be working with you! Such plans I have for this keep...such plans!!"

I gently disentangled my hand before he ripped it out of the socket. "Thank you, Master Veedle."

I was, over the course of the next hour, introduced to various workers, carpenters, and soldiers, all who were apparently under my command. I shook hands, learned and then soon forgot names, and received a bone-snapping bear hug from Miss Jen, the cook, who was almost as wide as she was tall. Through it all, a smile was fixed on my face, but my heart was sinking. I was longing for my Uncle's tavern...for the back room I slept in, with the crookedly stuffed mattress and the quilts with holes in them, and the uneven floorboards that sometimes made me trip in the midst of the night.

Underneath it, I hated to admit, I was _craving_ to be near Bishop, speak with him, touch him, _anything._ He had stayed close to me throughout the past day, of course; but barely a word had passed between us about what had happened in the forest, and now I was getting shoved into a pair of boots that were no doubt going to prove to big for me...I didn't want a damn castle. I wanted music, laughter, a warm bed and food every day, and the long, tender embrace of the road to comfort me. And maybe the arms of a certain ranger...

"Captain," said a clipped voice near my ear, and Kana was at my side once more. "I need to ask you about some of the men, if you could come with me...

"My lady!" Veedle was at my elbow. "If you and I could go over some of these building plans, for just a moment..."

I stepped away from them all neatly. "First things first. My companions and I are exhausted, and the sun is almost down. We'll need food, and some clean clothes, and rooms made up in the inn for us, seeing as how the castle can barely hold it's own walls up." I looked at my two "assistants." "Tomorrow, I will seek you out. Tonight, don't come near me."

And with that, I turned on my heel, and walked towards the shambling tavern, who's lights were glowing warmly through the open windows. I tried not to break into a run.


	15. A memory of fire

"Yer cheatin!" hollered Khelgar, and we all burst into laughter as he threw his cards at me; I ducked in mock terror as a shower of cracklng paper descended on my head.

"I'll take that as a fold," I said smugly, and gleefully drew Khelgar's wager towards my pile of coins. Neeshka dealt out new hands, giggling incessantly at Grobnar's attempt to stay upright on his stool. We were all crowded around one of the smallish tables playing Snatch, some horribly confusing card game that Grobnar had taught us, and although he kept remembering new rules and forgetting the ones he had previously taught, we were enjoying ourselves regardless (thanks in no small amount to multiple glasses of Firewhiskey.)

"I'm missing a card!" announced Neeshka.

I felt deft fingers caress my ear momentarily, and then a grizzled hand held a card out over my shoulder, dropping it onto the table. "The new 'Captain' was hiding it behind her ear. I think you were right about the cheating, dwarf." Bishop appeared next to me, pulling up a stool. He smelled strongly of whiskey (though I'm sure we all did) and he dropped an arm around my shoulder (to my incredibly pleased surprise), grinning at Neeshka roguishly. "Deal me a hand, demon. What the hells is this game?"

Sand quirked an eyebrow at me. Khelgar said, "Uh...we're not quite sure, actually."

"It's Snatch! A most wonderful card game, my family has played it all their lives, it's actually quite simple..."

"I suggest if you're going to play, you try not to think about it too much," said Sand drily. "And keep drinking. It'll all make sense." He stared at the cards quizzically. "Or if not, at least you'll be drunk."

We played another round, and my heart beat erratically throughout; Bishop's voice rumbled across my ear every time he laughed, or cursed, and I felt the heat of his body through the thin tunic I wore. His was wearing the same genericaly boring short-sleeved tunic we all had been given by Miss Jen to wear while her keep servants cleaned our armor and oiled weapons and equipment, and the hardened muscles of his arm pressed against the skin of my neck, sending prickling sensations down my spine. I caught the knowing look that Sand passed to Elanee as she walked by us, and felt a sharp twinge of anger; _who were they to begrudge me anything?_ I cocked an eyebrow in Elanee's direction as she settled at the bar, and she shrugged at me, her face blank.

"Oy, Harper!" Khelgar rapped the table in front of my face. "You're bet, girl."

Five hands later, Neeshka threw her cards down in disgust as Khelgar crowed happily, taking the rest of her coins. "That's it, I'm done with this tripe," she said. "Sal! Get me a drink."

I laughed as Sal shook his head in our general direction. It had been something of a surprise to find him here; he had given me a report on the Docks when we had first come in, and it didn't sound good for Duncan. "The Flagon'll always be there, though," Sal had said. "But I needed to go off in my own direction, and when I heard about Nevalle needin' people to help build this keep back up, well, I figured it was my chance." Now, he poured a drink for Neeshka, watching our game with an expression that crossed amusement with the look of someone who was on the receiving end of one of Qara's fireballs.

Soon my head was swimming, and I begged off any more cards. "You'll have all my coins if I keep playing," I laughed, and stood, Bishop's arm sliding from my shoulders. His hand lingered on my waist as I moved away, and I flashed a quick smile in his direction, the whiskey in my blood making more than a _little_ confident.

I slipped out the back door, the chill of the air striking through my thin clothes and clearing my head a little. I started walking, hands in my pockets, my loose hair rustling down my back in the ever-constant breeze. I waved at some of the workers who were chiseling stone by torch-light; they stared at me. _Friendly bunch. _ Casavir, Kana, and Nevalle were speaking quietly by the ruined tower, and I wandered over. Kana nodded cordially at me as I approached.

"Ah, Captain Harper," said Nevalle. He smiled at me, a light of mischief in his eyes. "You've been drinking."

"And you've missed quite a rousing game of Snatch, Sir Nevalle." My voice sounded giggly even in my ears, and I cleared my throat, promising myself I'd stay away from the Firewhiskey from this point forward. "But I believe Sal still has some spirits left over. All of you should go relax a bit; we'll have plenty of time for serious matters on the morrow."

"Aye, I'll think I'll take you up on that." Nevalle trudged towards the tavern, where laughter was even now pouring out of the windows. Kana turned to follow him, and glanced back at Casavir. Her voice came out uncertain, almost timid, much different from what I'd come to expect from her. "Are you coming, Sir Casavir?"

"In a moment, Lieutenant," said Casavir distantly, and she looked at him a moment longer, before following Nevalle.

I looked up at him, my voice teasing. "You look rather down-trodden, paladin."

"Don't...don't call me that." His voice came out quick, angry; it was a shock. It was the first time he had expressed anything other than cool, effortless concern. His eyes were like two blue flames, burning down at me. "You sound like _him_ when you say that."

I felt like I'd been struck. The raw fury in his voice ignited my own anger, and I narrowed my eyes. "What business is it of yours?"

"I...it is not." His face closed down. "But you have a duty, whether you will it or no. You cannot let...feelings...distract you from what you have to do."

"Oh, _you're_ telling me about duty, Casavir?" I jammed an index finger into his chest, and he stepped back slightly, his eyes amazed. "You _dare_ tell me about duty, when you know, you _know_ all that 'duty' turns out to be is one more way everyone else can ensure you do their dirty work for them." I was practically hissing through my teeth. "Duty is a tool of the lords and nobles, nothing more. They're not concerned with what is _right_! They are concerned with their own damned survival, and they will do _anything_ to ensure it."

"And do_ you_ know what is right, Harper?" His voice was calm, but low and dangerous, and for a moment I remembered that he was much, much bigger than me. "Do you know what is good? Or are you blinded by what simply _looks_ good to you?"

I stared at him in disbelief; my voice was barely a whisper. "Leave him out of this."

"He is very much a part of this." Casavir's voice softened somewhat; his fingers cupped my chin, lifting my face so that our eyes met. "Harper...it won't end well. You are leaving yourself wide, wide open, and all he will do is weaken you when you need to be strongest. Too many people are counting on you." He sighed and released me, rubbing his forehead; he seemed to deflate slightly. "And I do not wish to see you hurt."

My anger was doused like water tossed onto flames. "Casavir," I said softly. "He's on our side."

"Aye, for now. Maybe some day you will see it as I do." The mask fell in to place again, and he nodded at me. "Have a good evening, my lady." He turned, and made his way to the tavern, dissappearing into the warm glow pouring through the front door.

I wandered the ruins for a long time, the crunch of my boots on broken shale the only sound in the desolate place. Casavir's words echoed over and over in my head; one part of my brain scoffed at a paladin who lectured me on doing the right thing, when he himself couldn't commit to his own vows. But another part whispered that his words were logical, and they made sense; and that whatever Casavir felt about his vows, he was warning me because he cared about _me_.

And it was with these mixed thoughts that I turned my boots back towards the tavern, intent on sleeping off the last of the liquor, and stopped in my tracks. Bishop leaned against a crumbling wall, just watching me. The silence stretched between us for a moment, and then he looked out over our encampment below. "Saw you talking with the paladin."

I walked towards him carefully, stepping over loose stones. When I reached him, I had to catch my breath for a moment; the moonlight etched his profile perfectly against the blackness of the night, and the expression on his face was simmering anger and...resignation. He looked so painfully beautiful that I reached out, touching his face involuntarily. He looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable; his jaw was clenched under my touch. "Did you two have a _pleasant_ conversation?"

"He was reminding me of my duty to the people of Neverwinter," I said gently. "Nothing else."

"Oh, your _duty_? Aye, I should have expected as much from a paladin." He chuckled disdainfully. "Get a pretty woman alone and talk her ear off about virtue, there's an idea."

"You know, some of what he said made sense."

Bishop stared at me; he stepped in close, his eyes simmering with gathering anger. "Aye, did it? Is that what you want, then? Some polished armor and a painted shield to keep your back stiff as a board, and your morals stiffer?"

"It's not like that," I said sharply. "Look, all of this shite that I'm caught up in, well...gods, what the hell would you do in my place?" I turned from him, pacing the cracked ground. "You heard what Zhjaeve said about this shard in my chest. Put yourself in my boots for a moment. You're the only one with the means to control a weapon that is capable of destroying something that is near invincible and threatens everyone." I shrugged at him, holding my hands up questioningly. "Your first course of action would be...?"

"Find a tavern and drown myself in a keg. Literally."

I couldn't help but laugh. His arms were around me, then, and his voice was whispering in my ear, "You and I could just leave, you know? There are other places to go; Cormyr, Amn. Or we could just find a little camp in the middle of nowhere, and stay there for a few years." His lips brushed the corner of my mouth in a sensual half-kiss. "You don't have to die for everyone just because some happen-chance in your youth left a little sliver of nothing in your chest."

My heart hammered. "Aye," I whispered huskily, shivering as his lips trailed down my neck. "And you'd just run off with me at the drop of a hat, would you?"

He chuckled into my ear. "I like that sharp tongue you have. And traveling with you has been the most fun I've had in years." A hand tangled itself in my hair, pulling my head back so that my lips were tantalizingly close to his. "And just maybe, I've developed a taste for that sweet skin of yours..."

His kiss was fierce and possessive, and I was nearly crushed against his chest. The hand in my hair gripped the back of my head, tilting it back so that my lips opened under the sensual probing of his tongue, while his other arm nearly circled my waist in it's entirety. I couldn't have wriggled away if I wanted to. _If_.

He broke the kiss to whisper, "Five minutes. If you're not in my room, I'm hunting you down." He let me go so fast I fell back against the balustrade, gasping as if I had run a race. He was gone almost as suddenly as he appeared, leaving me to slow the racing of my heart.

Exactly four minutes and twenty seven seconds later, I opened the door to his room and slipped inside.

o o o o o o

_Smoke. It poured out of windows, out of doors, like black oil, smothering the sweet, damp air of the swamp with it's stench. Shouting, screaming; he ignored it all, even the pain that shot through him as he broke the arrow off in his chest. He'd pull it out later...or not, and be dead. It mattered little. _

_Footsteps, behind him. Someone trying to be quiet. He turned, his knife drawn, and leapt on the last soldier, blade flashing. The helmet rolled off as he slammed his attackers head into the ground._

_Lem Cooley stared up at him, snarling. "You think you've escaped them, scum? They'll find you! They'll track you down until they have you pinned up on their front gates like a scarecrow!" His words were cut off as the knife slashed into his throat, warm blood spilling from the wound._

_He stood with difficulty, kicking the body as he moved away from it. He had to get out of here; he staggered across the town square, peering through the flames. There had to be an opening somewhere..._

_Someone ran out of a burning building; Lena Hum, flames licking at her skirt. She wasn't screaming, or making any attempt to put out the flames. He saw why; a babe was in her arms, and even as he watched, she tripped, fell, and the fire licked up her clothing and caught on her hair. She scrabbled to push the babe away from her, but the fire raced down her arms, and danced happily over her child, catching instantly. It was then that she started screaming._

_Something crumbled, inside of him, and he fell to the ground, gasping, as the full weight of his wounds came crashing down. He had killed all of them; every single last one. Eight soldiers. A full squad. His Captain would have been proud, had he not decapitated her._

_It had been a perfect plan. He watched as Lena stopped clawing at the smoldering remains of her child, and lay still, the flames crackling over her corpse triumphantly. The villagers...they hadn't done anything to deserve it except be stupid, worthless villagers..._

_Forget it, his mind whispered. It's not important anymore._

_His vision began to fade. In the distance, he thought he heard a voice..._

_"Lad, you're hurt! Hold on, I've got ye..."_

o o o o o o

_He awoke with a start, a cold sweat on his forehead. He glanced through the open window curtain; the moon was still high. It must barely be past midnight._

_She lay beside him, eyes closed, sleeping and unaware. His eyes followed the faint scars that marked her lithe body; a faint, faded slash on her cheekbone, barely visible unless you were looking for it. A few smaller, near her hair line. Several on her arms; it was obvious to him, even if he hadn't known it already, that she fought with two weapons; her arms were well toned, and they bore more marks than any other part of her. Her legs, maybe one or two, faded beyond recognition. The newly healed, pinkish scar that ran up her abdomen, from the golem's blade. And then, the faint, curving white line that ran down her chest like an elongated crescent. Her entire body was warm, but that scar had burned gently against his hand as he had touched her. _

_He was not the type to believe in epic heroes. The supposed savior of Neverwinter, wielder of the Sword of Gith, and here she lay, stripped to the skin and sleeping, her scarlet hair pooled around her still face like ribbons of blood._

_He touched her carefully, sliding his fingers across her shoulder. She was just an elf. A woman. An interesting, attractive, mule-headed woman, but definately killable. She'd been hurt badly the last time they had risked their lives, and he hadn't been the one to save her, had he? It had been that blasted paladin, him and his god. Men like himself, when they touched things and tried to heal them; well, those things merely crumbled to dust._

_He withdrew his hand from her reluctantly. He liked the feel of her skin; soft, woman's skin, no doubt, but the feel of steely muscle underneath intrigued him. Silk and iron, a mind sharp as a blade, and an array of words at her command that would make a Docks sailor blush..._

_He caught himself. She's a distraction, yes? Well, and he would enjoy it, while it lasted. Maybe convince her to give up this fool quest to save Neverwinter, and leave for somewhere that the King of Shadows had never heard of. He settled back into the bed, and she sighed softly, shifting in her sleep, rolling closer to him. He shut his eyes. _

_In his mind's eye, Lena burned again; this time, her hair was the color of blood, and her eyes were grey, like the silver of the sky before a storm. They burned like quick-silver, and the accusation in them was terrible to see._


	16. Purification

"There's a man, Captain...says his name is Uncus? He needs to speak with you." Kana stood at attention.

I sighed at her wearily. "Look, relax, will you? How the hells do you manage to get your spine so straight when you stand like that?"

"It takes years of discipline and training, Captain. Um.." She leaned towards me, and Sand managed not to look completely amused as she whispered in my ear loud enough for the entire throne room to hear. "This man...well, is there something I should know? He said something about the Shadow Thieves, and then _winked_ at me." She sounded scandalized at the latter.

"Don't take it too hard; I'm sure that display of small motor skill function was quite difficult for him. You should have complimented him on it." Sand's voice was deceptively innocent.

I elbowed him, struggling to smother my laughter. "Suffice it to say, I have a...uh...difficult past, Kana." I smiled at her warmly. "Why don't you let him in to my office and I'll talk to him later? Make him feel comfortable."

"All right, Captain." She glanced at me uneasily, but left.

I looked at Sand, eyebrow raised. "Starting trouble?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Just fanning the flames of young love. Really, you shouldn't try to stop it, Harper."

I laughed as Aldanon walked in, followed by Zhjaeve. The latter spoke. "We have found them."

I sobered as Aldanon shoved an open book into my face, jabbing at a poorly depicted map. "Here, up north; an old Illfaern ruin site, almost forgot it was there myself, until this smart young lady reminded me of it."

It was odd hearing anyone refer to Zhjaeve as a "smart young lady," but her face was impassive as she spoke. "The Ritual of Purification can be performed there. Whenever you are ready, we must travel. And prepare yourself well; know that the road will be long and fraught with shadow, and that the ruins themselves will be held under _his_ power."

I nodded, steeling myself. "Sand, can you...?"

"Why, I'll go right now," said the elf, turning to leave through the high double doors. "I can hardly wait to tell them all to prepare to venture into yet another sure-to-be-fatally dangerous place."

Aldanon nodded as Sand left the room. "Oh yes, it's quite dangerous. I'm glad it's you going, and not me."

"Thanks," I said drily.

o o o o o o

I sheathed my scimitars, catching my breath and examining the corpses at my feet. "You know," I said lightly, "At least it's orcs this time. I was rather getting tired of zombie's, ghasts, shadows, and evil priests."

"I'll make sure and remember that when your birthday comes around."

I chuckled at Shandra, who was dislodging her shortsword from the body of an orc. Wiping my brow, I glanced up at the plain, unassuming statue in front of us. The others gathered around.

"It doesn't look like much," said Qara, doubtfully.

Sand shot her an irritated glance. "Most objects of incredible power usually aren't labeled as such for the world to see, girl." He brushed some imaginary dust off the shoulder of his robe. "Not that you would know that."

Qara snorted at him derisively. "I don't _need_ objects of incredible power, hedgewizard. Unlike some others."

"Not now," I said firmly, as Sand's mouth opened to retort. "Zhjaeve, is this what we're looking for?"

"Know that this is a statue of Purification. There are five; five statues, and five parts to the Ritual," intoned Zhjaeve. She nodded at me. "Touch it."

I looked at her uneasily, but stepped forward, pressing the palm of my hand against the stone; it was warm to the touch. A breeze rose up, rustling the leaves of the trees, rattling our equipment. The whispering of the slight wind grew louder, and turned into words, rippling the air around me in a language I did not understand. Suddenly, it felt as if brilliant hot fire was coursing through my veins, and I saw white light shoot from the statue into my hand, down my arm, and into my body, and the words were singing with such purity through my head that my heart ached. _Cleanse the shadow with fire_, they whispered.

And just like that, the light went out, and I was standing there with my hand on an ugly stone statue, being stared at by all of my friends.

"My goodness," said Grobnar in awe.

"Are you okay?" asked Shandra.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I could still feel the fire inside of me, and I gently pulled my hand away from the statue, looking at it. "Aye," I sad, my voice subdued. "Better than okay."

"The ritual will give you abilities that will aid you in combat against the King of Shadows, as well as his minions," said Zhjaeve quietly. "While each one is quite powerful, you will not be successful unless you have them all." She nodded up the path. "We must find the others, kalach-cha."

I nodded at her. "Lead on."

o o o o o o

The Song Portal finally stood open, shimmering in the fading afternoon light. _One statue to go_, I thought. My entire body felt like it was buzzing; so much energy had been forced through me that I could feel the hairs on my body standing up at attention, and my vision glowed at the edges. "Ready?" I asked somewhat breathlessly, and didn't wait for an answer as I shut my eyes and plunged into the iridescent light.

I felt a tug low in my abdomen, and a sensation of nothingness that lasted for a fraction of a second, before I was dumped unceremoniously onto my feet again, stumbling slightly. The light was different here, but I recognized the swamp smell almost immediately. As my companions appeared around me, I noticed something...a smallish fishing boat floating forlornly in the creek nearby, empty, the wood blackened and charred. I recognized it as Wyl Mossfield's, and a chill rose in my heart, spreading into my entire body.

"Where the hells are we?" muttered Khelgar. "I don't see a statue."

"We're in West Harbor," I said woodenly. My feet began walking forward, ignoring my brain, which was whispering _no, no, you know what you'll see, don't bother looking..._

I crossed the bridge leading into town; it was barely holding together as it was, blast marks marring the wooden planks. They followed me silently; even Grobnar kept his mouth shut for once. The sight that greeted me as my eyes fell on the main part of town...gods, it was complete, utter destruction. As if in a daze, I walked, seeing a figure lying in the roadway, sword still in hand. I knelt at Georg Redfell's side; his skin was chalk white, and there were no marks on his body that I could see, nothing that would show how he died. His other hand was empty; he had given me his shield the day I had left West Harbor...

I hadn't wept since I was a child; even now, no tears would come. But ah, my heart; it cried out in rebellion at the bitter injustice of it. We had fought so hard, and we had_ won_. Over and over again, my village had fought for it's right to exist, and had outlasted it's enemies, and we had carried it with us with such pride. Harbormen wouldn't be killed so easily, we had said, and scoffed at anyone who claimed that living in the swamp was dangerous. We can handle it all, we had told them.

And just like that, they were all dead. And I hadn't been there to do anything about it.

I touched Georg's shoulder briefly, and stood. The look on my face must have been terrible indeed, for when Sand stepped forward to speak, I looked at him, and he flinched, backing away. I turned, and headed into the depths of the village. I found most of them; Retta Starling, the Mossfield boys, Brother Merring. Stretched out across the ground, and their skin leeched of all color, whiter than bone. As I came closer to Daeghun's...my...home, I walked faster and faster, and when the edge of our roof came into view I broke into a run.

The house was crumbling on itself, the wood blackened from fire. I grabbed the hinges of the door and yanked on it; it fell away from the frame in my hands, the fire-weakened wood snapping easily. I pushed debris out of my way, struggling to get in to the house. "Daeghun!" I shouted.

"Harper...Harper, stop, you don't need..." this was Shandra, trying to pull me back.

"Daeghun!" I shouted again, my voice desperate. I wriggled into the house and began kicking through ashes and debris, imagining my father's body lying somewhere close by, white-skinned in death...

It only took me a few minutes to search through the wreckage of our house, but it was soon clear to me that he wasn't there. Shandra and Casavir helped me out of the ruined front door again, and I stood, wiping soot from my face without much success. I shook my head. "He's not in there. He might have gotten away."

"Who could have done this?" Khelgar said, anger rippling in his voice. Bishop stood behind him somewhat, staring silently at the destruction around him; when he met my eyes, there was something in them that I couldn't begin to read.

"You Harbormen are tough," he said. His voice held no gentleness, no compassion; it was firm, but lacked the usual mocking edge he used. "Whatever did this was tougher. We need to be careful, here." I noted the arrow he had readied against his bow, and realized that while I had been near losing my mind, he had been ready for an attack. As I should have been. I swallowed, and nodded at him, reaching down and giving my spine a good shaking. _ Steady there, girl._

"Whoever has done this, know that this is not where the portal was meant to take us," said Zhjaeve. "This is your home, kalach-cha?"

I nodded. "It was." My voice sounded empty to my own ears.

"Do you know of any ruins close to here? Anything of Illfearn?"

"Aye...actually, there's some ruins that lizardmen inhabited some ways into the swamp," I said, my mind racing. "I've only explored them once, briefly, but it's possible..."

"It is something, at least," muttered Casavir, pushing his hair out of his eyes...the damp swamp air was slowly but surely drenching us. "The portal brought us here for a reason."

"Be cautious," warned Zhjaeve. "Something has kept us from finding the statue. I do not know what will meet us when we reach it, but we should be prepared."

I led them through the rest of my village, no longer looking at the faces of the dead as they watched us walk by. The edges of the buildings soon dissappeared into the swamp, and I felt my resolve slowly returning as we put more distance between us and West Harbor.

_You're the leader_, my thoughts whispered to me. _So be one._

"Weapons ready, everyone," I said, drawing my scimitars. "This place wasn't friendly the last time I was here, and I don't think time has improved it."

I heard the rustle of metal as my companions obliged. My jaw tightened as the ruins came into view.

The doors were wide open.

o o o o o o

_He felt it, drawing near...the slow, burning pain that crept through him whenever the shards were close to him was enough of a warning. "She is here," he whispered, and the shadows gathered around him, waiting..._

_She stepped through the doors, two dully gleaming blades in her hands. She reeked of Illfearn, of purification magic. He pointed a skeletal finger at her, and the shadows leapt at her, hissing. _

_He turned his back on the fight, his attention on the statue in the center of the tiny structure. It's magic was gone; someone else had come and performed the ritual before he or the Shard Bearer had reached it. But just to be safe...he extended an arm towards the thing, muttering an incantation that was slippery with thick words. A dark ball of energy shot from his outstretched hand and smashed into the statue with a blast that rocked the entire room._

_He turned to see his shadows defeated, and the mortals picking themselves off of the floor from the after effects of his spell. The statue was crumbling behind him, useless. "You come for nothing, shard bearer," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "One has already stripped this place of it's ritual magic. Oh, how sweet it is to see you fail..."_

_He let his hood drop from his face._

o o o o o o

"My gods," I heard Sand mutter in horrified awe behind me. "What _is_ that thing?"

"I am a servant of shadow, reaver of souls," the thing said. Where it's head should have been, only skull remained, black and purple flames licking around a hideous grin. It's voice was hollow, deep, and my insides cringed as it laughed at us. "You made me, Shard Bearer. The ritual at Crossroad Keep that was our undoing, was also the catalyst of my creation."

"You're one of Garius' mages," I said, repulsion in my voice.

"Oh, no longer. Garius is but another of_ His_ servants. And with His power, we cannot be destroyed."

Zhjaeve stepped slightly in front of me, her staff readied. "Nothing is invulnerable. Have you tested your strength, reaver of shadows?"

"I have not needed to, zerth. But my master's power is stronger than anything you could bring against me."

There was a note of uncertainty in his voice, and I narrowed my eyes. "You don't sound sure."

He chuckled, and the sound was like a blade sliding through gravel. "Even if I were to be defeated, I would reform with time. You cannot destroy me, Shard Bearer."

"I'm willing to try my best, just for you." And I leapt at him, executing quite a clean double-swipe that would have made Georg proud. My blades passed through his body, shadows trailing after them, and I heard the others spread out into a battle formation; spells flashed by my ears, and Khelgar was at my side in an instant, swinging at the thing. I saw Casavir and Neeshka circle to his back, then had to throw myself to the ground to dodge another one of those earth-shaking spells from the thing's fingers. Then on my feet again, swords swinging.

And so we danced, blades flashing, spells flying, and not a thing really seemed to make any difference to the reaver. He threw another spell at Neeshka, and she dodged clumsily, crying out at it grazed her and sent her smashing into the floor. She was moving slow; we had fought many battles that day and I knew we were all tiring rapidly. This was not going to end well.

Zhjaeve shouted to me. "Kalach-cha, the rituals! Use the powers you've been given!"

Oh. _Well, no shite._ I chanted the words from the first ritual, Cleansing Nova...the liquid hot light burst from me in an explosion of divine magic, and with it, the soaring, piercing notes that I had heard from the statue filled the room and struck me to my core. It was beautiful, and terrible, and that small part of me that was still West Harbor farm girl cringed from it, frightened, begging me to stop it; but that part of me was too small now to make much of a difference. The intensity grew until I thought my entire body would be torn asunder from the force of it, spreading out with the ripples of power that echoed from me. It wasn't until the last, dying notes faded away and the spell ended that I realized the song had been coming from my own throat.

The shadow reaver was gone. Silence filled the small chamber as my comrades looked around, the fight suddenly over. I exhaled, long and low.

Qara looked at me, her eyes awe-struck. "By the gods," she whispered. "What the hells was that?"

Zhjaeve placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. "There is much power in cleansing. The King of Shadows is stagnation. Illfaern is dead and yet he continues to exist, refusing to change. Refusing to die." She looked at me, her eyes bright. "Such is the nature of Purification, that the old is cleansed to make room for the new."

"Thanks for the completely useless information, but as much as I am just _loving_ this place, we need to leave before that thing comes back." Ah. The cutting edge we so dearly missed was back in Bishop's voice.

"Know that the portal we should have entered from is here, at the back of the chamber," Zhjaeve said softly. "We can leave from it safely."

I looked back towards the door, where beyond the swamp people I had grown up around, lived with my entire young life, lay dead, scattered to the elements. Zhjaeve shook her head at me. "Kalach-cha, there is nothing more you can do for them. We must leave."

I turned, following the others as they filed through the portal. _No_..._there was something I could do for them..._

o o o o o o

I set the last stone gently on the barrow, steadying it so that it remained in place. The bustle of the keep was faint from where I stood, alone in the open field that stretched before the main gates. The wind toyed with my hair, blowing it crossways in front of my face, and I straightened up. No bow, no fiddle, no audience except the spirits of the dead, but I lifted my head and sang.

_The world behind, the road ahead_

_no others walk the path you tread,_

_Sun and shadow, light and shade,_

_all will fade, all will fade._

_But know ye memory lasts in stone_

_And know you shall not walk alone_

_So rest, be still, and sleep ye true_

_For long will I remember you._

I knew no prayers, and I wouldn't know which god to pray to. Deneir did not cast her luck on the dead, who no longer needed it. I simply stood, for a long time, feeling the sun drop lower in the horizon, my eyes on the stone barrow I had built, not really seeing it. For the first moment since this entire affair had started, it had been me who was hunted, victimized, slandered, schemed against. I admitted to myself that I had been willing to bleed, even die, to stop the King of Shadows. Obviously I had not wanted it, but if I'd have to pay that price, well...I'd pay it.

But I was not willing to have others pay it for me in my stead. Not those I loved. And the ugly truth I had been dancing around finally looked me in the face; if I failed, or fled, they would pay that price in full. There was no dodging this swing of the axe, no choosing a champion to fight in my stead. Whether I wanted the responsibility or not, it was mine to own or ignore, and everyone I had grown to care for was riding on my choice.

Bishop's offer to run somewhere faded from my thoughts, albeit reluctantly. Who couldn't be tempted by _that_? But...whatever happened next, this bard wasn't running.

Not long after sunset, I made my way back towards the keep, feeling a strange, still peace where before was all restless doubt and fear. Whatever happened, I would see this through to the end. What awaited me there, though...well, I would just have to see.

But if I lived through it all? By the gods, what a song this would make...


	17. The Haven

_He bent over his bow, his knife whittling quickly, expertly, his ear sharpened to the sound of something moving through the forest. Something big. Bishop has listened to him for near half an hour, perfectly willing to allow the paladin to stumble around for as long as he liked. These woods outside the keep were big enough to make anyone lost in a matter of minutes._

_A creak of plate-mail announced that his guest had arrived. He remained bent at his task. "I could hear you coming a mile away, paladin, crashing through the undergrowth like a giant metal boar."_

_"I mean to speak with you," said Casavir, his voice stern, pious, and sickeningly calm._

_"Aye, I'm sure you do." He turned them, eyeing the other man, his lip curled disdainfully. "Come to tell me to leave her alone, have you?"_

_"This isn't just about her, ranger," growled Casavir. "I've come to tell you to leave _**all**_ of us alone."_

_Bishop laughed. "Oh, you paladins just _**kill**_ me." He circled the other man, fingering his bow as he spoke. "So valiant on the battlefield, and why wouldn't you be? You must need some way of venting all that pent up frustration; when all you really need to do is admit that you need a drink from a wench's cups like the rest of us."_

_Casavir whirled on him, his hand on the hilt of his blade, eyes flashing. "Do not speak of her that way!"_

_"Oh, don't be defending her honor," Bishop waved a hand at him dismissively. "She can do that herself, or haven't you noticed? She's nearly as good a warrior as you now, and her magic doesn't rely on some _**god's**_ will to be cast." He grinned at the paladin, his eyes mocking. "Besides, I know what she likes; a man who isn't afraid to make the hard decisions, the kind of decisions she makes every day! Not some knight who can't even figure out whether he's coming or going, who wants to weigh her choices down with morality and rules. By the hells, if _**you**_ were leading us, we all would have died long ago." His voice lowered into a growl. "She does what needs to be done...and so do I." _

_"Don't compare yourself with her, Bishop," said Casavir; his face was a mask, seemingly unstung by the ranger's barbs. "She cares for people, cares what happens to this place, but you would grind it beneath your heel and laugh while the rest of us bled. She is _**not**_ like you, ranger." The paladin's voice was low and dangerous. "And she'll see you for what you are, soon enough."_

_"Oh, I suppose you've got me all figured out, haven't you?" Bishop snarled. "Not everything is black and white, and not everything can be solved with a damned hero in shiny armor." He spit in-between the paladin's feet. "Get out of here. Before some stray wild animal decides to rip you into shreds."_

o o o o o o

I groaned. "If you show me one more missive to sign, Kana, I'm going to make you eat it."

Kana opened her mouth to reply, no doubt with some polite reminder of my duties, when Grobnar exploded into the room, sending my papers flying everywhere (to my secret delight.) "Harper! They found it!" He stepped on a misplaced sheaf of keep orders, and his foot slipped, sending him sliding into my desk with a dull _thud_.

I quirked an eyebrow, stretching over the top of my desk to look at him. "You realize how many things 'it' could be at this point?"

"Oh, this is the big it!" My bottle of ink had toppled off of the desk, and when Grobnar stood, I couldn't help bursting into a fit of giggles. Black ink splattered his face and hair, and thanks to his enormous grin, it was running down into his teeth as well. He scrambled to my side and snatched my hand, yanking me to my feet.

"But...but Captain--" Kana called after me, a frown on her face, as I was lead across the hall and into the library. Qara glanced at us as we walked by her, and blinked at Grobnar's ink-stained face. "What's going on?"

"The usual. Sure to be something dangerous, no doubt." I grinned at her as Grobnar dragged me into the back study, where Aldanon usually made himself comfortable. Sure enough, the wizened man was bent over a huge tome, his expression one of rapt concentration...while Sand looked on with an expression of rapt confusion.

The old man looked up gleefully. "Ah, young lady!" He smiled at me, gesturing me over to the talbe. "Come in, come in. I believe I may have found out how we can locate that Haven you're looking for."

"What? Really?" I was amazed; of all things! I was beginning to believe that Ammon Jerro's Haven was just a myth after all. "Where's Shandra?"

"Here," she said, stepping into the room behind me. "The others are coming, too."

"He's been explaining to me what 'reagents' we'll need..." began Sand, looking at me in askance.

"Yes, dragon's blood, for starters. Oh, and lich dust. And there seems to be something here about three keys..."

"Master Aldanon?" Aldanon's manservant came running in, waving a map. "I did what you requested; it worked! I've marked the most likely location on the map...oh!" He stopped when he saw us all staring at him. "It seems he's already told you, Captain."

"Told me what?"

"Yes, what is all this about?" Aldanon slammed the book shut, glaring at his servant.

The man coughed nervously. "Um, Master, you told me to have the Many-Starred-Cloaks try and scry a specific location, and...well, you were right! There's an area farther north, deep in the mountains, that the scrying spell couldn't touch. It's the most likely place for the Haven."

Multiple pairs of eyes looked back at Aldanon, who cleared his throat. "Yes, er...thank you. Well, I guess you don't need to find me dragon's blood after all." He looked at me hopefully. "Although, if you have any extra time, I _could_ use some..."

I sighed, exasperated. "Looks like we're heading into the mountains." I reached over, touched Shandra's arm lightly. "You ready for this?"

"Not at all." She smiled at me weakly. "Just make sure I get there in-tact, all right?"

Bishop quirked an eyebrow at her from where he leaned in the doorway. "Your blood will, at least."

"Oh stuff it, Bishop," said Neeshka irritably.

"Or what, demon? You'll steal my teddy bear?"

I glared at him. "Are you done?"

"Far from it, '_Captain_.'" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Please, come let me know when we're ready to leave. I'm most eager to risk my life _yet again_ on this fool's quest of yours." He turned after giving me one last, furious look, and disappeared down the hall.

Qara whistled long and low. "Lover's quarrel?" She smirked at me knowingly.

I slowly, carefully, unclenched my fists.

"Do you ever think before opening your mouth, girl?" said Sand sharply, seeing the look on my face.

"I don't have time for this," I said quietly. "Everyone, just get ready, please. We're leaving in an hour." I walked out of the room, feeling their eyes on my back.

Well, of course he didn't like it that I was staying to fight. He'll get over it. What kind of person wouldn't fight after seeing what the King of Shadows had done to West Harbor?

_He'll get over it,_ I thought to myself. _He has to._

o o o o o o

It took us close to two weeks to reach the point on the map Aldanon had marked for us. Over the first half of that last morning, as we trudged up whatever we could find that constituted as a trail, the natural sounds of the forested mountain around us slowly died away, leaving a thick, oppressive silence. When we crested the final ridge, and a clear, manicured path lay before us, I called for a rest. The air was thin, and cold, and we were all out of breath.

Bishop hadn't spoken to me since we'd left, but still he watched me. The hood of his cloak was up due to the chill, and he sat against a jagged outcropping of rocks, his dark eyes following me as I moved between everyone else, checking injuries and helping to tighten down or loosen equipment. His anger was still tangible; I didn't know what had set a fire under his trousers, but I wasn't going to be the first one to break the silence, that was for sure.

Shandra sighed as I loosened her platemail; she'd taken to wearing it recently, claiming that if Khelgar could do it, she could as well. Of course, after the first day of wearing it around she could barely walk, and even now she smiled at me gratefully as I helped her remove the bigger pieces. "Thanks. My back is killing me. What the hells was I thinking?"

"Ah, don't take it hard, lass. Wanting to be like me is perfectly normal after being exposed to me masculine grandeur." Khelgar grinned up at her, ducking the playful swipe she aimed at his head.

I chuckled as I dropped her armor by her feet. "Yes, well, the rest of us are smarter and refrain from emulating you, dwarf." I patted my own leather armor contentedly.

Neeshka was peering up the head of the trail. "Hey guys...do you hear something..?"

Casavir stood, drawing his sword. "Aye, I hear it too."

A low whispering crept through the trees, and I moved quickly to my gear, drawing my swords from where they rested against my pack. Everyone moved to their feet, bracing themselves for...what? We waited, tensed, but soon the whispering died away, and silence descended on us again.

Elanee looked at me, her eyes wide. "This place is wrong," she whispered. "This silence...I can't even hear the trees."

Shandra was buckling her armor back on, Khelgar helping. "I don't want to rest anymore," she said nervously. "We need to move."

"No argument here," muttered Sand.

"Aye, pick it up then," I said, frowning up the path ahead of us. "Be careful, everyone."

We picked our way down the path, high stone walls rising on either side of us. The only sound around us was the crunching of our boots on the dirt and the pounding of my heart beating noisily in my ears. We turned the corner and the pathway spread out, into a small canyon full of debris. On the far side, was a small, unassuming doorway, iron bars firmly blocking our entry. So was the enormous iron golem, standing silently in front of the gate. It didn't move as we walked towards it, picking our way over the fallen rocks, past rusted metal braziers obscured almost completely by crumbling shrines. I stopped in front of the golem...it was much, much taller up close.

I glanced back at my companions, spread out behind me. Neeshka shrugged at me; Grobnar said, "Why, it's most wonderful, don't you agree? I wonder how long it's been standing here. Maybe you should ask it?"

"_That's_ your advice?"

Grobnar nodded at me eagerly. "Oh yes!"

I stared at him. "Talk to the hulking guardian golem?"

"Well, yes. I mean, you must be polite, of course."

I craned my head back, looking up at the thing. "Maybe I should start by politely trying to convince him not to rip my arm off and feed it to me?"

Qara kicked Grobnar in the leg lightly, illiciting an indignant "ouch!" from the gnome.

I licked my lips nervously. "Hello?" I called.

The golem creaked into life; it's eyes opened, glowing slowly with an inner fire. The shapeless head rotated down, and those eyes seemed to stare straight through me. "Only those of the Jerro bloodline may pass." It's voice was sultry coal, glowing embers, with a hint of menace that burned at the edges of it's words. _Well, looking good so far_, I thought.

"I'm Shandra Jerro!" said Shandra, shoving her way to my side. "So, uh...so let us in!"

"Oh yeah," I murmered to her as the golem turned it's head. "That was epic."

To my left, Bishop snorted in what suspiciously sounded like a supressed chuckle.

Shandra glared at me. "And 'Hello?' is much better, is it?"

"Though you may have Jerro blood, you are not the Master of this place," the golem intoned. "There are trials set up for one such as you; I cannot let you pass until you have faced all three."

"Three trials?" said Sand incredulously.

"Talk about your paranoia," said Neeshka.

"We don't have time to discuss it; we must act." This from Casavir, standing towards the back, his hand resting easily on the sword.

I looked up at the golem. It stared down at me, it's eyes still burning steadily.

"So," I said, steeling myself. "About these trials..."

o o o o o o

I gasped for breath, slapping at the flames still smoldering on my armor. "That's three," I said. "Honestly, Shandra, were all your relatives this...difficult?"

"You're one to talk. You have a piece of the legendary Sword of Gith lodged in your chest, and your father conveniently forgot to mention it to you for most of your life."

I grinned. "Oh, touché."

A hand quickly brushed down my lower back in rapid strokes, skimming over my rear extremities briefly. I whirled in shock, to find Bishop standing behind me.

"Just putting out the _rest_ of the fire," he said, his voice dripping with irony. "You know, you should _really_ watch where you sit down after battling fire elementals. Not safe, you know." He flashed a quick grin, and moved past us towards Qara and Khelgar.

Shandra was sniggering quietly. "Oh, shut up," I said, but my heart felt lighter than it had in days. "Are you ready to do this?"

She nodded, sobering. I whistled to get everyone's attention, and they followed as we made our way back to the golem, who was watching our approach with impassive unconcern. "All right, guardian," I called. "We've completed your trials."

"So you have. But the spilling of Jerro blood is still needed."It creaked, metal hinged arm bending at the elbow, palm facing upward. Then, it waited.

I looked at Shandra. Her face was pale. "Hey," I said gently, and her eyes flicked to me. "Just...take your time. You don't have to do anything you don't want, you know."

She looked back at the golem's outstretched hand, and shook her head. "Not after coming all this way. No, I'm...fine." She inhaled deeply, and drew her boot-knife, stepping towards the guardian. Opening her palm, she flicked the edge of the blade across it quickly, and let the welling crimson liquid spill into the golem's hand. "There," she said, stepping back quickly. "Now, let us--"

At the same moment that the metal bars lowered on the door beyond her, a flash of light nearly blinded us, and my hand flew up instinctively to cover my eyes.

When the light faded and I uncovered them again, the door was open. And Shandra was gone.


	18. Powered by Blood

"You," I said coldly.

Mephasm smiled at me from the center of the binding circle that, once again, caged him. "Ah, my lady. We meet again, I see."

"I think you _see _a lot more than you tell me, devil. Where is Shandra?"

Mephasm sighed. "She is here, in this Haven, somewhere. She is how you were able to enter here, yes?" He glanced at the open door behind us, leading back out to the mountains. "She will be able to travel this place more...efficiently than you will."

I frowned at him quizzically. "How is it that you're here? I thought I freed you, last time we met."

"Sadly enough, the Master of this place was abe to bind me once again, and this time, my true name will not free me. He has taken...precautions."

"Who is he? _Where_ is he?"

"Ah," the devil grinned at me. "You should know by now that I cannot tell you everything. But I can tell you, he once walked your village, when you were but a babe...and the forces of Neverwinter met him there, in a battle that I'm sure you know all about by now..."

I could feel the blood draining from my face. "The King of Shadows? _Here_?" My knuckles were bleach white, squeezing the hilt of my swords. "We don't have time; we have to get to Shandra, now. Mephasm, you.."

He chuckled. "Yes, I will aid you. You must get to the labratory of this place; that is where my Master is, and most likely that's where your human will be, as well. See yon portal?" He gestured behind him. "I can open it, for you, and it will link to the place you must go, but by itself it will take you nowhere. You need at least..." he seemed to pause, calcuating something in his head," ...three others to help you as well."

I narrowed my eyes. "Three other what to help me?"

Neeshka touched my elbow lightly. "I wasn't going to inturrupt you, but...there's fiends here. All over the place. My skin feels like it's burning..." her voice sounded shaky, uneven. She glanced at Mephasm in distaste. "I think he means we'll need their help, as well."

My hand covered my eyes for a moment. "I swear, the day something, anything, is uncomplicated and simple, I will eat my own fiddle."

"You better not," growled Bishop dangerously.

"We must hurry," said Elanee, desperation in her voice. "Shandra is alone in this place."

"Oh, I doubt that she is alone; but she is very much in danger," Mephasm intoned gravely. "Your druidess is right. Good luck to you, my lady." He bowed formally to me.

As we left his chamber, walking carefully down the darkened hallway that led to the next room, Khelgar tugged at my arm. I leaned down so he could whisper in my ear, and when he did, the words were "Something ain't right about what that devil told us."

"Well, we have nothing else to go off of. And if he's right, then we have to help Shandra. If he's wrong, what harm will it do?"

Khelgar grunted acquiesence, but his eyes were troubled as I pushed open the next door...

o o o o o o

_The Erinyes smiled at her. "Why would I lie to you? Just try it, if you don't believe me. Blood powers this place; your blood. Just think of where you want to go..."_

_Shandra stayed far back from the winged devil, her hand on her weapon. "Why should I trust you?"_

_"Oh my dear," she laughed. "You shouldn't. But try it, and you'll see that I'm telling you truth."_

_Shandra shut her eyes, concentrating...in a flash of light, she dissappeared from the room._

_"Ah, and so the chase begins," the erinyes smiled to herself, as the door to her chamber opened..._

o o o o o o

I stopped. A winged woman...or close enough to one...was standing in the center of a binding circle, a portal similar to Mephasm's behind her on the wall. She was intensely beautiful, and repulsive at the same time, and she smiled at me in a way that made me want to crawl inside of myself and hide.

"Why, such pretty presents. Are you all here to see me?"

"Something like that." I stepped slightly in front of everyone, more to convince myself that I was still in command of all my faculties (including my courage) rather than as a show of leadership. "We need your help to get into the laboratory."

"Ah yes, I felt Mephasm activate his portal, and now I know why." She eyed me calculatingly. "Hmmm...you could be of use to me." She tapped her lips with her forefinger for a moment, then snapped her fingers, smiling. "Ah! There is a demon, Baalbisan, in the next room. His temper is...unseemly, but he sometimes shouts the True Name of his matron in his fits of rage, like a curse. Unfortunately, he becomes infuriatingly tight-lipped when my erinyes try to taunt him. I need you to learn that name for me."

I frowned at her quizzically. "That's all?"

She looked amused. "Would you like something more difficult to do, instead?" She laughed at my stony expression. "Get the name, and I shall help you. Now shoo. Before I grow tired of you and just kill you, instead."

o o o o o o

_She stared up...and up...into the wild features of a pit fiend, having appeared almost directly at it's feet. Her toes nearly touched the edge of it's binding circle._

_"And what is this? Step forward, little tool, let Koraboros look upon your features." His voice was depthless, rumbling, soothing, and terrifying, and she stepped back quickly from the circle, her eyes wide._

_He chuckled at her. "Too smart for that one, little one?" His burning eyes watched her closely, his demeanor deceptively calm. "Tell me, little one, how did you get here?" _

_Shandra blinked, confused. "I... I'm not sure. A demonness told me I could travel anywhere in this place... and suddenly, I was here."_

_Koraboros regarded her curiously. "Blood powers this place, girl." He inhaled deeply, sniffing the air. "Aaaah...and you, here, and of your own free will, too? I can feel the balance of this place shifting."_

_"What balance?" Her voice was high, suspicious._

_"This place is powered by the presence of the baatezu and tanar'ri held here. It is what permits you to travel as you will... and grants power to the one who commands us."_

_Shandra's voice was eager, demanding. "Who? Who commands you?"_

_"A powerful wizard, one whom your friends have hunted for some time. He is lord and master of this place, and is forever linked to shadow." If the pit fiend could smile, it was doing so now. "I think you know his name already, as do your friends."_

_She balked, her face going chalk white. "The King of Shadows is...here?" She swore vehemently. "Well, he'd better be prepared for a beating, because my friends have ways of defeating him now!"_

_"My dear," the fiend's voice was deadly serious. "As long as we remain in our summoning circles, the one who commands us will rise from every defeat anew, more powerful than before."_

_"Wh-what?! But Zhjaeve said...the rituals...you must be lying!"_

_"What I speak is the truth, mortal," Koraboros said menacingly. "And it does not bode well for your friends."_

o o o o o o

"It steps forward to let Baalbisan see it more clearly, " growled the baalor, eyeing me curiously.

"Careful," whispered Neeshka. "One wrong question, and we won't get a chance to ask another..."

The baalor sniffed disdainfully at Neeshka. "What is this...thin-blooded thing before me, it's flesh reeking of the baatezu? Is it female? It looks too weak to be otherwise."

I narrowed my eyes, ready to retort, but Neeshka beat me to it. "Weak?! Who's the one trapped inside a summoning circle, and who's the one walking free, you half-witted tanar'ri hindlicker?"

Sand groaned behind me. "Next time, can we leave the more impulsive ones behind when we go off galavanting through demon-infested labyrinths of death? Just a suggestion."

"No, she's right; Hezebel said that we needed to antagonize him," I hissed quietly.

Sand sighed, his face the picture of doomed resignation. "All right. Aim the tiefling and fire away."

Baalbisan snarled down at Neeshka, and I felt her shift slightly behind me. "It thinks bold words make it superior? It is a small drop of evil, a random and hissing bloodfly only... weak as a baatezu, weaker as a _female_."

"And how did you get here?" I shot back, my own anger rising. "Are you stupid enough to be lured here with the promise of blood and sacrifice? If so, I hope that circle fits you nice and tight, because you wear imprisonment like one _born _to it, demon." Well, what of it? I couldn't stand chauvinists...even if it did happen to be a chauvinist baalor who's head nearly broke the ceiling and who's claws could _probably _rend me in two with one swing...

"It will leave me now," Baalbisan growled, snorting furiously. "It's presence angers me."

"Hmmm," I said, my voice deceptively cheerful; inside I was _blazing_. "No, you know what? I think I'll stay right here. I mean, there's really not much you can do about it, is there?"

Behind me, Neeshka smiled at the baalor sweetly. "We might as well make ourselves at home, yes?

Baalbisan let out a roar that nearly shook the room with it's force, and my heart stopped for a moment. But the circle held as he thrashed. "My memory is longer than a thousand of its lifetimes and my wrath is legion!"

"So you'll never forget that we insulted you? Why, that's even better!" I had to admit, Neeshka was in fine form.

"Bethshiva take it! I will see it _suffer _for its insolence!" Baalbisan snarled, tearing at his own flesh in frustration; I watched disconcertingly as the wounds healed almost immediately. "By the hells! Even the sound of my matron's horrid name drives me mad! Oh, Bethshiva, may the tanar'ri females bind you for their pleasure..."

"And that, I think, is our cue to leave. Are we done baiting demons for now? We've got the damn name," growled Bishop.

"Aye, quick, let's get back to Hezebel," I said, attempting to cool down somewhat; a worried urgency was descending on me. _Where the hell was Shandra?_

Bishop gestured towards the way we had come with a mocking bow, scowling. "After you, 'my lady'."

o o o o o o

_The succubus smiled. "Just reach out with your thoughts; and concentrate."_

_Shandra focused; it wasn't as hard as she thought it might be, like writing words in the air with her mind's eye. "Harper? Can you hear me?"_

_Sure enough, the bard's voice echoed through the room, as if coming from a great distance. "Shandra? Is that you?"_

_"Listen, this place is sealed...powered...by demons, and devils."_

_"Oh really? I noticed!"_

_"Listen to me! They say that their master is unbeatable!"_

_Shandra could hear the frustration in the elf's voice as it reverberated around the room. "Everyone had a weakness! We've come so far..."_

_"I know, that's what I say! Just don't do anything crazy until I can find you; I don't think these creatures are lying about this."_

_The succubus laughed at her in surprise. "Killing our master? Oh, that's not impossible."_

_Shandra's concentration snapped, and she looked at the succubus wildly. "What?! I-" her words were cut off as another flash of light filled the room, and she teleported once more._

_"Humans. So easily distracted!" The succubus yawned. "Now I'll have to wait."_

o o o o o o

"Shandra?" I called, but whatever had connected us was gone. "Damn it!"

"Who is that cursing in such a melodious voice?" The words drifted through the open door in front of us. I glanced at my companions despairingly, and stepped into the room. A pit fiend, towering many hands taller than all of us, looked down regally at me as I stepped forward. "Visitors? A rare occurrence indeed, these days." He grinned at me, baring fangs. "What can I do for you?"

"I need your help opening a portal, devil. To the laboratory."

He chuckled. "Ah, a plot to strike at the master, is it? Bold of you. Suicidal. But bold."

My patience, my courage, my sanity, was running thin. Dealing with demons was like trying to dance on a sharpened blade barefoot, without getting cut; sooner or later, no matter how good you are, you're going to lose your toes. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and my voice was more than a little sharp. "Will you help me or not?"

"I can help you, yes...but first, there is something you need to help me with, regarding a servant of mine..."

o o o o o o

_She stumbled slightly as the succbi's room faded from view, and a new one surrounded her. "Damn it!"_

_"What is it? What is it that comes before me?" Baalbisan glared down at her, hissing. "It trespasses, but it moves freely in this place. How is it able to do this?" _

_She squared her shoulders...enough was enough. "I am looking for a way to beat your master. And gods, if you can't help me, then you better shut your mouth, because I'm tired of talking with demons!" _

_Baalbisan laughed derisively. "Kill our master? It asks too late, too late for it and for the others it has brought."_

_"Tell me!" She strode forward, as close as she dared, and thrust a finger towards the baalor. "How can he be beaten?"_

_To her incredible surprise, the demon almost cringed. "Jerro. It speaks as one of his blood. " He regained himself almost instantly, but when he spoke, the writhing anger and mockery was gone from his voice. "As... as long as we are bound, our master cannot be defeated. If we are set free, the master is weakened. "_

_"Set you free? Not likely!" Shandra scowled. A farm girl she may be, but she wasn't stupid; what kind of a lame demon trick was this?_

_Baalbisan snorted. "It speaks with defiance, but it will soon see truth, truth that only blood will show. It sheds it's blood, Jerro blood, and our circles will dissolve. The Master will lost his power. But such blood required from it...why, it will drain it's life, so that nothing remains."_

_"I'm not cutting myself for you! Any of you!"_

_"Then it's friends will die." He stared down at her, his eyes penetrating. "It will watch it's friends suffer, and through suffering, it will know the truth."_

o o o o o o

Koraboras' portal was slowly sizzling to life even as we left his chamber. _One more to go. _I had taken point, and had no sooner turned the corner when a screeching succubus was on me, all claws and snapping tail. I was knocked back into Casavir, who yanked me down just as an arrow whizzed by his shoulder, piercing the thing's eye. Then, fire exploded around us, and three more succubi running down the hall fell to Qara's magic before I even had a chance to blink.

The smell of charred demon-flesh filled my nostrils, making me nauseated. "Thanks," I said...to everyone in general. How many times does someone have to save your life until thanking them becomes repetitive? It was almost a reaction, now.

"I would take that as a warning to proceed carefully," said Sand drily.

"You mean we haven't been this entire time?" quipped Bishop, sarcasm dripping off his voice.

I entered the next chamber to the sound of clapping. "Well done!" announced a distinctly beautiful succubi in the binding circle. "You have earned an audience with me."

"My goodness," murmered Grobnar. "I'm getting a wonderful tingling sensation just looking at her!"

She smiled at me. "Please, speak...and _do _keep it interesting?" The last was edged with steel in her voice, warning of the consequences if I didn't.

"Who are you?"

She arched an eyebrow imperiously at me. "I am Blooden, mistress of the Deep Crest, the breeding grounds of the Abyss." She paused dramatically, and frowned at the blank looks on our faces. "You haven't heard of me? That is strange." She pouted slighty, her lips full and inviting...did Khelgar just _whimper_?

"You're a female of your species, I see," she said, sounding more than a little dissapointed. "Did you...did you bring any males with you?" She scoured the figures behind me, and grinned maliciously at Sand. "My, what lovely ears you have; I know much of breeding in your species. You must be a _powerful_ mage, with such ears..." I couldn't believe it. Sand was puffed up almost twice his size, smiling at her foolishly.

"I think I'm going to be sick," muttered Qara.

Blooden's eyes fell on Casavir. "Oh, paladin," she said, her voice husky. "Your leader has done well by bringing you here."

"But do not come to close, 'holy' one," said Casavir in disgust. "Your presence is more than I can bear."

"My presence? Oh, most worthy knight," she pouted at him prettily, "if my form so displeases you, perhaps I shall take another..." her eyes flicked to me, and Casavir nearly snarled at her.

"You will not mock us! Not me...and especially not her!"

"Such passion!" She sighed sadly. "You paladins are always wasted in those temple walls that hold you." She winked at him, and glanced down at Khelgar. "Oh my...what is your name?"

Khelgar stuck his chest out; I could see him flexing his muscles from where I was standing. "Khelgar. Khelgar of the Clan Ironfist."

She cooed, her hand at her throat in delight. "Ironfist...that is such a _strong _name. Tell me, are you a _great _warrior?"

I looked over at Qara in askance; she shook her head at me in disbelief. Khelgar opened his mouth, and I could just _hear _the oncoming tirade about his exploits, when a voice snapped "We don't have _time _for this shite."

Blooden's head flicked away from Khelgar so fast I almost missed it. She was staring with intense curiousity somewhere behind me...I turned, and saw Bishop, glaring at her, his jaw clenched.

"My," she breathed. "Look at this. Such a specimen you have brought me. And such thoughts...!" She gasped, her smile widening. "Oh my, little human. You seem to have done very, very well for yourself...and your pretty little leader, here. I must applaud you."

"I've got enough demons, witch; taunt and tempt all you want, but your little act bores me." His voice was clipped and cold, his face harder than stone.

She cocked an eyebrow in Bishop's direction. "Tell me, male; does she see that soul you hide, like a dagger in a sheath, while you play at seduction? I wonder who's back that dagger is intended for..."

Bishop snarled at her, reaching for an arrow...

"Enough!" I snapped. "I didn't bring him, or anyone, here for your amusement!"

Her eyes went cold. "That's too bad. I was so looking forward to being amused." She yawned. "Servants!"

In response, another small squad of succubi poured from the portal behind Blooden, and ran at us, screeching...

o o o o o o

_She stared at the ground, a strange stillness filling her. "It can't be...it just can't be him." She looked up at the baalor. "There is no other way?"_

_"It stalls, it begs, it queries, and yet it knows the answer to it's question already."_

_She looked up at the demon. We've come so far, she thought. And we were all wrong...and they're going to die..._

_She thought of all their faces, their mannerisms, their courage and bloody-mindedness, and Harper at the forefront; the elf woman had brought all of this upon her, and yet...she hadn't regretted any of it, had she? The bard had been like...well, family. More of a family than she'd had for a short time in her youth, at any rate. And Harper was luckless, and sarcastic, and more than a little arrogant; but she was kind, and had a rare courage, and had stood up for her every chance she got, and Shandra had never laughed so hard, or felt anything so hard as when she was traveling with that group of mismatched people. And they had just drawn her into their fold, taken responsibility for her, just like that. _

_The only thing she had left to lose in the world was...well, them. And her life._

o o o o o o

I gasped for breath as the last succubi fell, glaring at Blooden, who was applauding once more. "Oh yes! That was magnificent. Almost as good as when Koraboros used to send his hell hounds raiding." She sighed in melancholy. "I would ask him to send more, but I'm stuck in this little, tiny circle.."

I gritted my teeth. "What do you want me to do?"

She smiled at me sweetly. "I knew you'd understand! Go ask him to send another pack raiding, like he used to...and if you do, I'll open that little portal over there to the laboratory." She clapped her hands together once, sharply. "Hurry back! I can hardly contain myself..."

o o o o o o

_"Through suffering, it will know the truth," the demon repeated. "It will be it's suffering...or theirs."_

_She eyed him warily. "So what exactly do I have to do?"_

o o o o o o

Blooden smiled gleefully at the bloodied corpses surrounding her. "You've made me so happy."

"I'm _so _glad."

She laughed. "I'm not normally one to honor non-binding contracts...or any contracts, for that matter, but you've entertained me so well that I'm feeling generous." With a wave of her hand, the portal crackled to life behind her, and watched as we moved towards it purposefully.

"You're going to die, you know," she called, as I stepped through. "Too bad I won't get to watch..."

Light and shadow swirled around me, and then I was dumped unceremoniously into a darkened room, stumbling over cracked flagstones. I could hear the others slipping into the room behind me, muttering and cursing. The only illumination in the place was from the various portals spread around the room, glowing softly with a red light that made everything look as if it had been washed in blood. Other than the noise we were making (and I cringed inwardly at the large amount of noise that was) the room was silent, and completely still.

I could see some kind of alchemy bench on the other side of the room, and a desk. _Well, we have nothing else to investigate_...I stepped forward, and even as my foot touched the ground, I heard Neeshka shout, "Harper, wait, don't-!" and brilliant light filled the room, the keening sound of an alarm reverberating off the walls.

"- step there," Neeshka ended futily.

A rumbling sound filled the chamber, and we huddled closer together, weapons bristling. In front of us, a wizard appeared with a resounding _pop_; it was the man from the Moonstone Mask. The one who'd hounded the shards I carried, and who'd foiled our attempts to secure the ones I didn't. For a moment, I felt uncertainty cross my mind; _this man was the King of Shadows?_ He was powerful, of that I had no doubt. The tattoo's across his face glowed brilliantly, illuminating him in an obscenely holy glow, and he chuckled at us even as we brandished our weapons in his direction.

"Intruders." His voice was like crunching gravel, and it was angry. "Unbidden, and unwelcome. How you got here is a mystery, but it won't matter to you very soon..." He stopped and stared, his eyes falling on me in recogniztion, his tirade abruptly cut off. "_You?"_

"Yes, me. You think I'd just let you leave with the shard? After you murdered Mira? After _everything_ you've done?" I pointed a scimitar at him. "You won't get away from us so easily this time!"

He didn't seem to hear my words...he waved a hand at me, leaving a trail of glowing light in the air, and his smile was sinister and completely unconcerned. "Why, you have brought gifts. You carry the shards I have sought... and one is even lodged _inside _you." He stepped forward, raising his hands...magic crackled between them, and his eyes glowed a radiant blue. "Let me take them off your hands...and from your corpse!"

o o o o o o

_"It must hurry," said Baalbisan, as Shandra drew her sword. "It's friends are fighting...and losing. It can feel it, in it's blood; it's friends lives are about to be snuffed out completely."_

_She hesitated, her mind racing with everything the baalor had just told her. "How do I know everything you've told me isn't a lie?"_

_"Shandra," he said slowly, his voice low, seductive, "even you know the truth can wound more than a falsehood. Believe me; the one your friends face even now is the blood of Jerro."_

_His uncharacteristic use of her actual name struck her to the core, and suddenly she felt it; she felt their pain as they fought him, felt them growing weaker, their wounds sapping their strength, and in the middle of it all...was her grandfather, Ammon, laughing as he killed them..._

_She concentrated, reached out in her head. "Harper...!"_

o o o o o o

I gasped from where I lay, where the mage had thrown me...my body was still reverberating from the impact with stone, and my vision was spinning. Shandra's voice pierced through my head, and I called out her name in shock. She's still alive!

"You can't beat him!" her voice echoed around me. "Only freeing the demons will stop him! They grant his power as long as they're here, but I can free them!"

"Don't..." I gasped, "..do anything rash! Shandra...!"

But her voice, her presence, was gone, and I felt a distinct emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I stood, and steadied myself; Qara was blasting the mage with all she had, but he was gaining the upper-hand, and with a quick gesture Qara was lifted off her feet and tossed across the room, slamming into the far wall.

He was laughing with pure, unadulterated joy, lifting his hands to cast a spell as we all attempted to stagger to our feet...and then suddenly, he choked on his laughter, deflating...

"What...what is happening?!"

o o o o o o

_"Oh my dear," said Blooden, her eyes hooded and sly. "You've cut yourself." She watched as Shandra approached her, pale-faced, her wrist sliced open, crimson liquid dripping across her hand. "Now, why would you do a thing like that?"_

_Shandra merely stared at her while she lifted her arm, blood raining down on the edge of the binding circle...it sizzled where it fell, and the markings gouged in the stone began to fade..._

o o o o o o

I watched in disbelief as the mage clutched at his head, his face contorted in pain. "What...what have you _done_?!" In an instant, he raised his arms and dissappeared in a flash of light.

o o o o o o

_Ammon Jerro appeared in Zaxis' chamber. "You!! You will stay!! That circle binds you, and it..." He stared down at the floor in shock._

_The binding circle was gone._

_Zaxis roared. "Zaxis will regain his strength, and will destroy you, Jerro!" The hezrou turned and dissappeared into it's portal, flames crackling around it, and the portal burst into flames at his passing, the magical energy it contained flickering weakly before dissappearing altogether. It's shell remained, charred, lifeless, and utterly useless._

o o o o o o

"Someone find a damn portal that works!" I shouted desperately. They were blinking out, one by one, and the room was descending into darkness. _ What the hell has that girl just done?_

Grobnar piped up from the other side of the room. "Here, this one seems to be glowing quite frantically!" He glanced nervously at the fading portals as we sprinted towards him, the sound of energy popping out of existence filling the room. "I think we must hurry!"

o o o o o o

_Mephasm looked down at her, his voice matter-of fact. "What you have done is brave, but foolish, Shandra Jerro."_

_She knelt at the edge of his circle, watching as her blood pooled on the stone, the marks fading before her eyes. Her body shook with terrible weakness, like a newborn lamb barely able to walk...she tried to speak, but her voice betrayed her, and she merely struggled for breath, her vision hazy._

_A flash of light filled the room, and a man stood there, furious. "You, girl! You did this!"_

_She gasped. "My friends...are they...?"_

_"They will live, fool. But you will not!" His hands stretched towards her, and energy shot from his fingers like lightning, lancing through Shandra's body. She screamed, while he ranted on. "You have destroyed my summoning circles! You have set the deadliest creatures in the Lower Realms free! You have weakened me..." she collapsed to the ground as Ammon's spell was spent. He stood over her, his eyes burning into hers like two blue flames, a terrible coldness rising in them. "For that, girl, you have earned death."_

_Her face was contorted with pain, but her eyes were calm...Ammon could see the life slipping from them even as she gazed up into his face. "I...know. I'm sorry, grandfather. I'm...I'm so sorry..." _

_And quietly, with only a sigh to mark her passing, she closed her eyes, laid back against the stones, and died. _

_Silence descended on the chamber. Ammon felt a terrible panic rising in his chest as he looked down on her body, realization dawning on him. She destroyed the circles... he whirled, staring at Mephasm. "Grandfather? What is the meaning of this, devil?!"_

_"It is truth," said Mephasm coldly. "And by such truths is one damned. She is...was...of your blood. There are **laws**, kinslayer, and when these laws are broken, they will take you where I go now." And he turned to his portal, just as a group of bodies poured through it, into the room. _

_The elf, the one that had challenged him in his own laboratory. The paladin, the wizard, the ranger, the gnome...all of them, spread out behind her, as she stared at the girl's body still lying at his feet. When she finally looked up at Ammon, he flinched...no spell he could think of would protect him from the raw fury that burned in her grey eyes..._

o o o o o o

Mephasm walked towards the portal we had just entered. He glanced at me as he passed. "I shall see you again, I think." In a crackle of flames, he was gone, the portal dying as he left. The room gave a great lurch, and a low rumbling started in the distance, slowly building...

"Shandra?" Grobnar pushed his way to the front. "I'm sorry but...could you get up, please? We've won, we've come all this way to save you..."

"Grobnar," I said quietly. "Stop."

There was steel in my words, and he complied. I stared into the wizard's face, not able to think, not able to move, not able to look at Shandra lying there on the stone cold floor, her body ravaged by magefire and her face pale and bloodless.

Neeshka snarled. "He killed her!"

"Get up and face us, you cowardly dog!" Khelgar bellowed, his face nearly purple with rage.

"If he does not surrender, we will fight. It is his choice," said Casavir, his voice so brittle I thought it might break.

Bishop's voice was at my ear. "Ignore that fool! I say we kill him _now_, to the hells with surrender! Do to him what he did to her!"

"Face me, Jerro," I said, my voice quiet, even, calm. "Face me, or die where you stand." I was vaguely registering that the room was starting to vibrate around us.

He looked me in the eyes, then. "Kill me now, and this place will collapse around us." He gaze fell once more on Shandra's body. "In my blindness I have...done a great wrong. But perhaps I might save you all, where one was lost." When he looked up once more, his jaw was set, his voice firm. "Gather around me...I have enough power to take us from this place."

Part of the ceiling chose that moment to collapse, and Elanee let out an involuntary, short shriek as it crashed to the floor near her. I gritted my teeth. _Revenge or survival, take your pick. _ "All right!" I shouted over the gathering din. "You heard him! Move, _now!_"

We all clustered around him, and as he lifted his hands, chanting, a brilliant light encircled us. My eyes were on Shandra until the last, lying sprawled on the floor, her lifeless gaze falling on me even as the room began to collapse. Then the chanting cut off abruptly as the spell was completed, and she faded from view, replaced by searing, white hot nothingness.


	19. Aftershock

The mug was warm in my hands; Sal served his ale mulled, to combat the descending winter chill that was beginning to bite the air. I was clean, dressed in real clothes, and most of my wounds were bandaged or healed. Except one...

We had all scattered for a much-needed rest when we finally returned to the keep. Ammon and I had spoken, alone, in this very tavern, for a long time, the doors barred to anyone else trying to enter. Kana had thought it improper that I was holding meetings in an alehouse instead of the castle that was being built for me, but at this point in time her opinion weighed little on my priority scale. Well...not that it did at any other time, either.

The warlock sat by the fire, and no one was really making any move to go speak to him. The general atmosphere was hushed, reverent; Casavir had begged off some errand to do up at the keep, and Elanee had dissappeared into the woods, as was her wont. Qara and Sand were no doubt stalking the library, both at different ends of the room. And I was...here. Hunched shoulders, clenched jaw, staring into a mug of warm ale that had been sitting in front of me for near twenty minutes. They had all looked at me, that raw expectation in their faces, when I had finally opened the door to the tavern after speaking with Ammon. Their expressions said _Tell us what to do. Tell us how we're going to win. Tell us that we didn't just make a huge mistake._

_Tell us that no one else is going to die._

Someone greater than me, perhaps, would have said some noble words. A bard should always have words at her command, that's what I believed. You were nothing as a performer if you couldn't communicate the highest, loftiest ideals and the darkest, most piercing sorrow into words for those less inclined to _think _than you were. But I had had no words. They had wanted me to be a leader, to uplift their spirits and soothe their sadness. Instead, I came in here, asked Sal to pour me a drink, and sat down, silent.

A figure slid onto the empty stool beside me, and the tension in my shoulders eased somewhat as Bishop sat, gesturing to Sal to pour him a glass. When he got it, he took a long, heavy pull from the mug and set it down heavily on the bar.

"So, are you ready to listen to me now?"

I looked at him, pushing my loose hair out of my eyes. "About what?"

He glanced around, but no one was paying attention to us; Khelgar was on the other side of the room, drinking quietly with Neeshka, and Ammon continued to stare into the fire. He put his arm around my shoulders, leaning close...more so that he'd be able to whisper and less as an affectionate gesture, I felt, but the feel of his arm still sent my heart racing. "Shandra's dead, and there'll be more dead by the end of this. Take my word on it...you leave now, and we can get far away from Neverwinter before anyone's the wiser."

I couldn't quite register that he hadn't given up on running away yet. "How can I run? After all that's happened?" I searched those dark eyes of his. "You speak of preventing death, and yet if I leave...there will be so many deaths on my head, I couldn't even count them."

"And what of it? They're weaklings, and they're more than willing to have _you _die for _them_. They rely on you because you're _here_. You're just an easy answer to their problems." His voice was so close to mine that when he next spoke, his voice low and suggestive, I could feel it sliding across my skin, like a blade wrapped in velvet. "I know it tempts you, Harper." My name on his lips was like a tongue of flame on the wood pile, and I inhaled rather quickly at the sound of it. "Would you rather stay here and die, or run, and live? We'd have a grand time of it, you and I..."

I studied him closely, not answering immediately. The look on his face was a rare one indeed...his tone was off-handed, casual, but his face? Ah, that was a different story. It was near painful to meet the intensity in his eyes, and I looked down at my hands, clutching at a half-empty glass mug for dear life. But he wouldn't let me escape that easily...his fingers were under my chin, and he firmly lifted my face up to meet his gaze once more. "No," he said, and his voice was rough, hard and edged with steel. "I've _bled _to keep you alive, girl. Don't make me keep bleeding, just to watch you _die_." He seemed to catch himself, and looked away from me. "I value my blood to highly for that."

"What makes you so certain of my death, Bishop?" The high, uncertain sound of my voice in my own ears knocked some backbone into me, and I faced him squarely. "We've defeated all of our enemies so far. I'm alive, in front of you! Right here..." I took his hand and pressed it to my chest...his fingers slid over my scar, where the highest point of it could be seen above the low collar of my tunic. He flinched when he touched it. "All this power I've been given, is for the sole purpose of _fighting _these shadows. There's no other reason for the ritual I performed other than that. Maybe I got thrown into this mess from no choice of my own, aye...but whatever run of luck put this shard in my chest, it's also given me the strength to _use _it." That old, silver-tongued fervency was slipping into my words, and I could see a frown forming between his brows as I spoke.

"So you take it, take whatever power is given to you, and leave," he said darkly. "Why should you be a victim of fate?"

"Because there are things bigger than me! Bigger than you, if you can stomach that idea," I said sharply. He snorted derisively, but I went on. "And because I know that these things come around again. I couldn't run forever...some day, whatever deeds I've done will come back to find me. They always do."

He looked as if he'd been slapped. I stopped in the midst of my tirade, aghast at the look on his face. There was anger there, aye...it always seemed to be there, with him. But underneath it was a terrible, terrible agony, well-hidden, but smoldering like the dying coals of a fire. It raked across me, and any more words that I had wilted under his stare. He pulled his hand from my grasp.

I reached for him again. "Bishop..."

No use. He stalked out the door, slamming it behind him. Khelgar and Neeshka looked up; the tiefling glanced at me, eyebrow raised. "And you like him _why_? He throws almost as many tempter tantrums as Qara."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh look, it's the pot calling the kettle black."

Khelgar stood, and took Bishop's stool, sitting beside me. "Look, lass, I...well, don't take this the wrong way, all right? I know ye two have...uhm..."

Neeshka grinned. "He knows that Bishop hasn't slept in his own room ever since Veedle fixed your suite in the keep, is what he's saying."

"Shut up, fiendling," growled the dwarf, his face crimson. "Look, Harper, I'm just lookin' out for ye. I don't trust that ranger; he's hiding somethin', and where we're headin' it's not going to pay to be keepin' secrets." He sighed, gesturing for Sal to refill his tankard. "It ain't my business, I ain't tryin' to make it my business, I just...well, I've been through too much death and bloodshed with ye to not say anything. Is all I'm sayin'."

I patted his arm awkwardly. "Thanks."

The door opened again, and in stepped Nevalle. His face was grave; apparently he'd heard about Shandra already. "Harper, Lord Nasher's sent me a message."

"What about?" I drained the rest of my ale (finally) and stood.

"He wants to see you. Alone." The last word was spoken meaningfully, and it surprised me somewhat.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "With all the dangers on the roads these days, and he wants me to travel alone?"

"I'll be travelling with you, as will some of my guards. But you are to leave your companions here." He nodded at me crisply, and turned to leave. "We're leaving in an hour's time; don't delay me."

When the door shut behind him, Neeshka snorted. "He's in a good mood."

I frowned thoughtfully. "This is an odd request. Why would he want me to leave you all here?"

Khelgar scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I don't know, but I'm not liking it. You be careful, lass. And if ye come back here in less than one piece, I'll mop the floor with ye."

I smiled at him. "I'll try and keep all my parts."

I left the tavern, trudging my way up towards the keep. I heard a chorus of "Good afternoon, Captain" from some of the workers, and waved at them in surprise. _ Well, they're warming up a bit, aren't they? _When I walked through the main double doors, Kana was almost immediately in my face.

"Captain, Sir Nevalle told me to prepare for your departure, and then he just left without telling me why. What-"

"I don't know, Kana. Lord Nasher wants me for something." I smothered my rising laughter at the expression on Kana's face.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I have no idea, but I'm sure you can handle things all by yourself for a bit, hmm?" And then I did laugh, as a mixture of surprise, exhultation, and utter panic crossed her face. "You'll do fine."

"Yes, Captain!" she said, her voice breaking a little.

I pushed open the door to my room, exhaling in relief as I slipped inside and shut it behind me. I stared at the general mess my equipment was in for a moment, despairing of even getting a chance to sleep before I left. Quickly, I started shoving smaller items into my pack...

"Going somewhere, are we?"

I glanced up...Bishop had been standing by the window, and I hadn't even seen him. I watched as he made his way to the other side of the bed. "Just me, this time. Nasher wants to see me alone, for some reason."

"How _exciting_." Whatever had happened to him in the tavern, it was gone now, and that mocking smirk was back on his face.

"Yes, well, I'm sure it is for you. You don't have to _bleed _for me this time, right?" My tongue sometimes spoke before my brain could dull it's edge, but no matter; I was still a little angry. I turned, reaching for my leather armor, but he was there before I could pick it up, pulling me away from it.

"Such anger, little elf. Are you angry with _me_?" His voice was pure velvet, seduction at it's best, and it always undid me in the end. His arms went around me, hands sliding down around my rear and lifting me off my feet. My legs went around him in an old, familiar embrace, and his lips ment mine in that teasing, mocking manner of his. I could feel him, pressed against me, and suddenly everything was swept away and there was nothing but hot, hungry desire that had been banked by days of travelling, death, and bloodshed. I pressed my mouth firmly against his, my hands holding his head still under my lips, retaliating with such force that he nearly lost his balance.

"How much time until you leave?" he whispered roughly.

"An hour."

He growled at me, and with a slight shove, unceremoniously dropped me backwards onto the bed. "You and your restrictions." He climbed on top of me, his mouth brushing against my ear. "I'll just have to see what I can manage in that amount of time, _vanima_."

o o o o o o

When I met Nevalle at the gates, I was only a few minutes late. Qara was with him, passing out some last minute healing potions to the guards. Nevalle quirked an eyebrow at me as I walked up.

"Sorry. I was saying goodbye," I said, breathlessly.

Qara chuckled. "So we heard." She winked at me. "Safe journey, Captain." She walked back towards the keep, whistling innocently.

Despite the hard, difficult road I had traveled and the many months of seasoning under my belt, I still had the grace to blush.


	20. Easy answers

"Hang on," I called. "Give me a few minutes." I swung my leg over the saddle as Nevalle and the guards halted. We had just entered the gates of the city, and the Sunken Flagon was across the way, it's door closed...odd, that.

Nevalle gave me an exasperated look, but I barely glaced at him as I walked by. I carefully pushed the door open; the fire in the common room was banked low, and it left a chill throughout the tavern. The place looked near deserted...only a few patrons sat around tables close to the fire, talking quietly. I nodded at them as I passed them; they ignored me. Duncan was behind the bar, wiping out a glass; he had dark circles around his eyes, and his face look tired, haggard. He was younger than my foster-father, but I was reminded very sharply that he was half-human by the lines arond his mouth and eyes, seemingly made deeper with worry. He smiled at me when I walked around the bar. "I heard they made ye Captain, lass," he said, his voice chipper. "Rising in the world now, are ye?"

"Not really by choice." I surprised both of us by hugging him; my arms went about his waist snugly, since I was still shorter than him by a few hands. "You all right?"

"Aye, don't ye be worrying about me." He patted my shoulder awkwardly as I stepped back. "It's just...well, I can't keep tabs on you now, off in your grand keep in the middle of nowhere, getting in to who-knows-what kind of trouble..."

I laughed. "Trust me, I wish I was still staying here." My voice dropped in a worried tone. "Have you seen Daeghun, by any chance?"

He blinked at me. "Why would I have seen him? He'd have no reason to visit me...isn't he still at West Harbor?"

I sighed. "West Harbor was sacked. Completely. I couldn't find his...find him. I had hoped..." My heart sank as I saw the shocked, uncomprehending look on my uncle's face. "But you haven't seen him."

"No, lass, I'm sorry. Damnit, the whole _town_? Did anybody...?"

I shrugged helplessly. "There were a few bodies I didn't find, but that could mean anything."

"Well...look, I travelled with Daeghun for years, in and out of all kinds of madness. I don't want to give you any false hope, lass, but if anyone could scrape their way out of a mess, it'll be your father." He frowned at me quizzically. "Not that I ain't a bit worried about him, too, but I thought you two weren't exactly...well, close. At all, actually."

I smiled at him ruefully. "We weren't. Most of the kindnesses he wrought for me, like my old violin, were just tools for me to use so I wouldn't grow up stupid like some of the other villager children. At least, that's what he told me." I sighed. "But family is family...and he's all I've got." My voice broke slightly at the end, to my embarassment, and I looked down at my hands, fidgeting.

"Nay, he's not all ye've got." Duncan smiled at me. "I know ye don't really need me, lass; you'll outlive me by many years, and you could probably clean the floor with me by now, but ye've got me just the same." He punched my shoulder (not as lightly as he must have thought, because ow!). "Hey, I'm good for a free beer whenever you want, right?"

"Aye, I guess I'll keep you around." My tone was teasing, but my smile was genuine. "Thanks, Duncan."

"Where are you off to, now? Not just coming to the city to check up on me, are you?"

"No, Lord Nasher needs to see me about something or other." I winced. "I should probably go before Nevalle tries to smoke me out."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone set fire to my tavern. How is Qara, by the way?"

o o o o o o

Nevalle led me into a side room when we entered Castle Never, telling the guards to wait in the hallway. I arched an eyebrow at him as he closed the door behind us. "You didn't drag me all the way here to kill me, did you? Because if you did, it's the worst assasination attempt I've ever seen." My voice was teasing as I took in his shocked expression, and I sighed in mock resignation. "At least you opened the door for me."

He blinked at me in surprise, and then even more surprising, he burst into laughter. "My gods, woman, you spent too long with the thieves. Are elves always this suspicious?"

I shrugged, smiling. "My father claims we have long memories. We must, since I even bothered remembering he said that." I watched as he opened a wardrobe in the far corner, still chuckling to himself. He pulled out a cloak, shimmering iridescently in the torchlight, and even as he shook it out I could see flowing runes and spells glowing and fading into the fabric, barely visible unless you were looking for it.

I whistled appreciatively. "That looks like fine weaving...what's it for?"

"You." He walked to me, the cloak draped over one arm; his normally serious expression was softened with a smile as he held it out to me. "It is a mark of knighthood; the finest mages and weavers make these for us, and it will offer you some protection, as well as other abilities."

I stared at him. "Knighthood?"

"Aye, Captain. You're to be knighted; Lord Nasher awaits us in the main hall to perform the ceremony." His smile widened at my panicked expression. "You don't have to do anything except kneel, so stop looking at me like that." His tone regained some of it's seriousness as he went on, quietly, "We wouldn't have gotten this far without you, and Lord Nasher knows this. He means to reward you, Harper; it's a great honor he's giving you." He regarded me. "Aye, and I think you deserve this as well."

"Really?" I snapped back to myself a little. "No more talk of dragging me off to the dungeons?"

He laughed. "I think the good outweighs the bad, in this case." He looked away from me for a moment. "You know, I...honestly, I thought you'd abandon us, once things began getting harder. Lord Nasher thought you could handle the keep, but I...well, I told him you'd probably take to the road and we'd never see you again, once you realized running a working keep was more than titles and gold." He clapped me on the shoulder, making me wince..._damn it, that shoulder is taking a beating today..._and nodded at me. "But you stayed, and you've worked hard without complaint. You've done a great good for Crossroad Keep and it's people. I misjudged you, Harper, and I apologize."

A flash of guilt ran through me as Bishop's words came echoing back through my head_. I know it tempts you, Harper..._

"Come, Lord Nasher is waiting for us. You'll need this; be careful with it, it's probably older than you..." He appraised me curiously as he handed me an elegantly crafted longsword, "..and that's saying something."

I snorted at him, which brought a wry smile to his lips. I know that I looked to be but a maid, fresh in the first bloom of adulthood, but I was older than Nevalle by a good score of years. "Mind your elders, young pup." I tucked the ceremonial sword into my belt, it's unfamiliar weight hanging against my hip as I followed Nevalle, who briskly opened the door and led me back out into the hallway. I had begun tying the glittering cloak around my shoulders, focused on my fingers working the knot, when suddenly the door to the throne room slammed shut with a resounding _bang_.

All of the gates around us began dropping in response, and a high, magical keening filled the air. The nobles gathered in the hall began shouting, shoving each other in confusion to get to the main gate; no use, for it had closed as well; we were locked in. Nevalle's sword was out instantly. "Is that... gods, it's the ancient alarm! I never thought I'd live to see this day...we are under attack!"

I drew my weapons, astonished. "You've got to be kidding me! This was a trap?"

"Harper, we don't have time..." his voice trailed off as a thick, dark mist began seeping into the room, collecting in one targeted area in the middle of the hall. The noblemen and women huddled at one end of the room; some of them were screaming in terror (and not just the women) while a few others ran forward with Nevalle's guards, brandishing torch brackets, sconces, and candelabras as weapons. One of them ripped an ancient, rusted spear from the hands of a decorative suit of armor, breaking it neatly in half. The elegantly dressed man stared at the pieces for a second, and then shrugged, brandishing both of them as he ran towards us.

Two forms began to solidify in the mist, and a man and a woman stepped forward, their eyes glowing in an unearthly red light. The woman smiled, baring sharp, pointed fangs.

"_Vampires_?" I hissed, incredulous. "I thought this palace was supposed to be warded!"

"It is! They must be here for Nasher..." He snarled orders to the guards behind us, and they spread out quickly, creating a barricade to protect the whimpering nobles behind us. "We've got to get to him!"

"I think you'll be going nowhere, human," the male vampire said smoothly; behind him, the dark, writhing mist took shape, and a score of wraiths formed behind him, menance pouring from them like a cold wind. "Except, maybe, the Shadow King's army, if he deems you worthy to serve him."

In answer, I extended an arm, sword pointing at the undead creatures before us...I could feel the energy billowing inside of me, to the tips of every hair on my body, as the notes poured out from my throat. The ritual magic that had been mine since we had dared the ruins of Illefarn burst outwards, my small frame the catalyst, and the the vampires shrieked as pure, searing light burned them, dissolving near half the wraiths at their command into nothingness. When the spell ended, they had staggered back to the far end of the hallway, horrible, smoking gashes covering their bodies, and the wraiths that remained milled around them, confused.

Nevalle stared at me, shock and awe apparent in his voice. "By the gods, Harper...!"

I shrugged, the after effect of the spell making me feel light and heady, as if I had drank too much wine. "Well? He wasn't speaking to you very nicely." I gripped the handles of my blades, attempting to control the raging energy that was rushing through my body. "And it pays to make the first move..."

There were no more words from them, then. They came at us, shrieking with rage, and I found myself locked in battle with one of the vampires, his fangs extended and his fingers curved like claws. He kept driving me back, and soon I realized he was driving me away from the others, a wall looming up behind me. Shite...I saw one of the nobles go down, rended by a wraith, and moments later, a small, black shape rose from the body, red eyes glowing, and joined the other wraiths in their assault. And I was halfway across the room...

I redoubled my efforts, attempting to break free from the vampire, but he was determined, and recklessly threw himself on me bodily, both of us crashing to the ground. I cried out, losing my grip on one of my scimitars and watching it skid across the floor to clatter harmlessly against the far wall, my other sword arm pinned to the floor in the creature's grip. The vampire was all fangs and glowing red eyes, snarling desperately, clawing at my throat, and my fist crashing into his face did nearly nothing; he ignored my pummeling as if one would a small, incessantly annoying fly, and I was slowly losing the battle to keep his fangs from my neck...

_The sword! _ I reached down by my waist, and grabbed the hilt of the ceremonial sword Nevalle had given to me, shoving the pommel-stone straight into the vampire's gut. He merely grunted, but his reflexes pulled him away from me somewhat, and the blade was free; with one quick, clean slice, it bit through his neck, and his body crumbled into dust almost instantly (and all over me.) A white mist rose from the ashes and dissappeared into nothingness as I rose to my feet.

One of the nobles was desperately trying to fight back one of the wraiths...and oddly enough, trying not to kill it. I ran over to him, shouting, "Strike it, already!"

He shouted back in an agonized voice, "It's Sir Gregoire! They got to him, and now he's attacking me!"

_By the hells_...I felt bad for the poor man, but I swiftly stepped into the path of the wraith's descending strike, and my blades made short work of it; with nothing more than a sigh, the creature evaporated into nothingness. I turned from the man's sorrowed expression and sprinted to where Nevalle quickly dispatched the last of the creatuers, staggering backwards.

I helped steady him as the wraith let out a deafening shriek and faded away, a thick silence falling on the hallway. Shouting and the sounds of combat could be heard through the door to the throne room, and I heard pounding on the far door, mixed with the heavy moaning of undead creatures. "We've got to get somewhere more defensible, Nevalle! We'll be torn apart if we stay here!"

Nevalle gave the throne room door one quick, agonized look, before turning and gesturing. "Follow me, I know someplace...we can hold out there!"

The guards herded the remaining nobles like cattle down the dark passageways, Nevalle leading while I took the rear. We all made piled into a tin room at the end of the hall; no windows, and no doors except the one that I quickly shut behind me and bolted. Not a bad place for a decent defense...but we couldn't stay here forever.

Nevalle was thinking along the same lines; he was instantly at my elbow, his face lined heavily with worry. "We have to get to Lord Nasher; who knows what he is facing in that throne room right now. Listen..." he glanced at the guards watching us, and leaned towards my ear, lowering his voice. "No one knows of this outside of Lord Nasher and the Nine. There is a passage, a secret way into the depths of this castle that might get you into the throne room through another route."

"_Me_?!"

"Yes, you! Harper, I can't leave these people, my men, alone here, while I go gallavanting off. And besides..." two pink spots appeared on his cheeks, and his eyes were full of begrudged admiration. "...you've probably got a better chance of surviving the Neverneath than I do, with that magic you've got. I wasn't the one who blasted those creatures up there."

_An easy answer to the problem_, I thought bitterly...and then I realized who exactly I sounded like, and brushed the thought away, setting my jaw firmly. Nevale's expression was watchful, hopeful...everyone else was watching our exchange with pale faces and fear in their eyes.

I nodded at him. "Tell me where to go."


	21. The Accolade

I leaned against the cold stone wall, steadying my breathing. Neverneath was a complicated twist of passages, secrets, magic...oh yes, there was magic down here. I was no wizard, but I knew a little of magic, and I could feel it humming through the stones around me. And I suppose it also became a certainty that some sorcery was involved when the guardian statues starting speaking to me...

There were a few imps that wandered the passages that I walked, but they were easily dispatched. I thought irritably of Lord Nasher's request that I leave my friends behind..._bet he's wishing I had brought them with me now._ I know _I_ was.

I cast a quick, mediocre healing spell to take the sting out of most of my superficial wounds, and pressed onward, past the last of the statues. It had asked me to swear fealty to Neverwinter, of all things. But in a place such as this, when I spoke the vows, I could feel their weight resting heavy on my soul, and my words seemed to slither through the air and sink into the very stones themselves. It chafed me, somewhat; it was no geas, that was for certain, but to require a vow from one who was already hell bent on doing what was right...well, it seemed very typical of Neverwinter, to require words and oaths. I didn't _need _a vow to do the right thing; but I suppose some people did. Whoever had designed this labyrinth sure took their precautions seriously.

I stepped into a circular room; the faded blue glow that seemed to come from everywhere cast an eerie light on the eight statues standing in a circle. In front of each statue, reflecting the light on their wickedly sharpened edges, were longswords, the same type of sword that Nevalle had given me, which I still wielded in my right hand. They floated in midair, and when I walked close to the first statue, the sword swooped above me, flashing. I ducked, but the blade wasn't going for me; It was cutting letters, words, in the air above the statue's head. The letters glowed briefly, and a sentence spelled out before my eyes; _Slade, last of the Nine. Sadly, his first day was his last battle._

They faded a few moments later, and the sword took it's rightful place, back again at the front of the statue. I frowned quizzically, and moved to the next; again, the performance was repeated, the words reading: _Tamper, eighth of the Nine. Youngest of us all, who kept all of us young. _The statue itself seemed to smile down at me, and it was with no small amount of uneasiness that I moved on to the next.

_N'halien, seventh of Nine. His chest caught an Illusk arrow meant for mine. _ Mine? I glanced towards the center of the room; a coffin, balanced on a dias, was starting to glow gently.

_Coneth, sixth of the Nine. His blood was impure, but none ever doubted his heart._ Aye, there were some who's blood was undiluted as winter snow, and I couldn't begin to guess at their heart.

_Shoce, fifth of the Nine. Three dragons could not slay him. Alas, the treachery of the fourth. _I chuckled lightly, despite the somber atmosphere. _It would have to be treachery, wouldn't it? _Someone who could take down three dragons would probably have easily handled another one on fair terms. Ah, but that was the nature of the beast. Especially the beast who could breath fire, and who's older than your entire bloodline.

_Thracier, fourth of the Nine. His death as a traitor does not release him from service. _The words bled red before they dissappeared, and I felt a sting of sadness. Betrayal of your king, your country; for a man as bound to duty as he must have been, to be one of Halueth's Nine; it must have been a hard thing to turn against it. I was a weaver of songs, teller of tales, and the oldest story in the book was the one of betrayal.

_Floashebel, third of the Nine. She never bore a child, but was mother to newborn Neverwinter._ I could understand the feeling. I definately felt like a parent half the time, with my companions stringing along behind me.

_Galavren, second of the Nine. The only one who remembers the promise left unfullfilled_.

_Ah, the hells take your secrets_, I thought irritably. _What _promise? It was the way of ancient places, to give you a taste of knowledge while hiding the feast behind some locked door or secret cavern. I snorted in disgust and moved on to the last.

There was no statue. I stared, confused, at the empty pedastal on the ground; then my own sword shot out of my hand so fast that it nearly burned the skin off my palm, and began writing in the air..._Talven, first of the Nine. We shall not rest until his sword takes its rightful place._

The glittering blade returned to my hand, and the words glowed persistently in the air before fading. I inhaled deeply, muttered a quick prayer to Deneir, and stepped lightly onto the blank, dusty pedastal.

The ceremonial sword in my hand grew warmer, and the other blades shifted in the air, their pommel stones pointed towards the coffin I now faced. I stepped off the pedastal lightly, moving towards it...as I approached, a whispering voice echoed around the chamber.

"The Nine are assembled, and one duty remains for me; I bequeath this, the Rod of Never, to the new Lord of Castle Never." The stone figure carved on the lid of the coffin was holding a delicately carved metal rod; right in front of my eyes, it's fingers slowly opened, allowing me to reach down and take it. "Deliver it to him that he may use it to protect Neverwinter from its savage enemies." The words echoed around me as I stepped back from the coffin, and a chill ran down my spine.

I turned, and nearly fled up the stairs that opened before me; they seemed to wind on forever, and just as I thought my breath would leave me for good, they flattened out into a long, dark hallway. I could hear noise; the sounds of battle, echoing from the far end of it. I ran, now, full speed, towards the light barely seen around the seam of a secret doorway. Lowering my shoulder, I turned my head away from the impact even as I threw myself bodily into it; it crashed open, and I spilled into the brilliant light of the throne room, rolling down the dias that led up to Nasher's seat of power.

He was holding off a Shadow Priest, with only the help of a few guards; immediately I was on my feet, calling on another ritual power as I staggered towards them; in a rush of song and magic, the Priest shrieked in agony, burning...when my sword sliced through him, he crumpled into dust.

I gasped for breath. "Are you...all right..?" I bent over, clutching my ribs as my lungs ached for air. "Sorry...the stairs from below...sheer murder..."

"Harper Kross..." Lord Nasher looked to have taken a few wounds, but he chuckled regardless. "How did I know you'd be the one to come bursting in here? Is Nevalle...?"

"Here, milord," said the knight, entering through the now open doorway. "Captain Harper must have unsealed the castle with her...rather spectacular entrance." He was gazing at the peices of shattered door that now littered the steps up the dias.

I straightened, finally able to breathe without risk of accidentally inhaling my tongue, and asked, "Do you need healing, my lord?"

"My preists will take care of me, Captain, don't expend your magic." He regarded the ashes on the floor at his feet. "Assassins. They sent _assassins _here - so this is how this enemy fights, with shadows instead of cold steel."

Nevalle frowned. "How did these things get in here?"

"They must have used night and magic to their advantage - hoping to strike at us..." Nasher looked at me, disquieted, "... at _you_, before we could prepare." His eyes widened as he noticed something hooked into my belt. "Is that the Rod of Never you're carrying?"

I looked down at it, bemused. "I would assume so...at least, that's what he called it."

Nasher was staring at me in disbelief. "_Who _called it?"

I wilted slightly under that stare. "It's a long story. There's a tomb down below, I had to pass through it..."

"Halueth Never's tomb? I always knew it was deep below the city, but...you've _seen _it, have you?" His voice was excited. "May I see the Rod?"

I slipped it out from my belt and handed it to him wordlessly. He held it in front of his eyes, awestruck. "I had heard the Rod rested below, but none have been able to enter Lord Halueth's tomb. It seems the ancient alarms of the Keep opened the way..." He looked at me, his face sober. "I should be able to open some of Castle Never's oldest secrets with this rod. It seems some good has come from this surprise attack...thank you for bringing it to me, Captain. "

"Well, it wasn't as if I was _looking _for it, my lord," I said, my voice somewhat edgy. "I will suggest, however, that if you do venture into Neverneath you have some men get rid of all the magic statues? I could have gotten to you sooner if I didn't have to dance through traps and games of answer-the-useless-question."

Nevalle looked scandalized at my tone of voice, but Nasher seemed amused. "None of us are worse for wear because of it, Captain, but I shall...consider your request." He slipped the rod into his own garments, and then drew his sword. "And now, I have a request for you. Kneel, please."

Nevalle interjected, "Lord Nasher, there are certain rites for inducting knights that must be..."

"Nevalle..." Nasher arched an eyebrow at him. "I knighted you at Redfallows Watch in the mud, with orcs surrounding us. Ceremonies can wait." I felt a warm, prickly sensation that spread throughout my entire body as he turned back to me, and said in a voice that brooked no argument, "Now kneel, Harper Kross, and be knighted."

I did so. My knee bent to the ground, and I stared at the floor, the hot sensation growing as I felt the blade tap first my left shoulder, then my right; and it was done. I was Lady Harper Kross, Knight of Neverwinter. When I stood, my vision was nearly swimming. My god, Duncan would never let me hear the end of it...

"A knight of Neverwinter is entitled to land, a keep - and forces, milord," prompted Nevalle.

"She shall have them," Nasher said firmly. "And there is...one more request I have of you, Knight-Captain." He looked me in the eyes soberly. "We've lost a valuable asset to Neverwinter...and a faithful friend. Mira was devoted to this city, and her death has left a gaping hole in the Nine. I would ask that you fill that hole; no one has proven themselves more capable of Neverwinter's defense and deserving of that honor than you."

"I..." I felt a little sick. "I'll have to think on that, my lord. Perhaps after the King of Shadows is defeated..."

He nodded at me in acceptance. "I shall await your answer, then. And he _will _be defeated." Nasher growled, pounding a fist into the palm of his hand, a determined look in his eyes. "I am tired of waiting for this enemy to strike. We have counteed every moev he has made so far, but that will not last; we must take what advantage we can get by striking first." He looked at Nevalle. "I want you to have the Watch start evacuating the city; Port Llast has offered aid to our citizens, and we must move as many innocents as we can out of harms way to prepare for the battle."

As Nevalle left the throne room, Nasher called out, "Meet us in the war room when you've passed the word, Sir Nevalle. We three have much to discuss..."

o o o o o o

_The wind was howling outside of the tavern, rain battering the shutters as Sal desperately tried to tie them closed. Many travelers were stuffed into the small common area, driven to the keep by the weather, and were now settled around the room in various stages of drunkeness. Talk and laughter were high, especially with Grobnar playing nonsensical music in the corner...leave it to a bunch of drunkards to find that gnome funny, he thought scowlingly._

_He took another long draught from his drink, snug in his corner, where he could watch the room and the wall was at his back. She had been gone near a week when a messenger had stopped by the keep, to report that Castle Never had been attacked, and an assasination attempt on Lord Nasher had been foiled. The man hadn't known anything about what had become of Harper...Bishop had even stuck a dagger in his face, toying with the idea of removing an eyeball or two, but the whimpering pisspot had merely started sobbing that he really, truly, didn't know anything else and please, not to hurt him._

_He snorted with amusement at the memory of the worthless messenger scampering away like some three month old-pup. It had felt good to take out some frustration; that elven wench and her talk of saving people drove him mad, sometimes. Something had changed in her, no doubt, when they had come back from chasing reavers through her old Mere village. And her words kept running through his head; "I couldn't run forever...some day, whatever deeds I've done will come back to find me..."_

_"You look awfully serious to be holding that drink, ranger."_

_He glanced up, slightly startled; he'd been lost in his thoughts, and cursed himself for not noticing the woman that now stood before his table, a slightly mocking smile on her face. "Be grateful its a drink, and not a blade, Charene, else you'd be a few feet shorter."_

_She tsked at him, shaking her head. "Such harsh words for me, Bishop? Come now, you can spare **some **civility for an old friend, yes?" She slid into the seat across from him, her smile wide; she'd grown her dark hair out longer since the last time he'd seen her, he noticed, and it slid over her shoulder as she leaned forward. "Of all the places I could have found you, I didn't expect it to be Crossroad Keep."_

_"I don't recall asking you to sit down."_

_"I don't recall needing permission to do much of anything," she said flippantly, examining her nails. "What **are **you doing here, exactly? The last I heard, you were skulking in some tavern in Neverwinter, looking for work."_

_He practically snarled at her. "Are you deaf, wench? I'm not hankering to speak with you, or even look at your sorcerous hide. Do us all a favor and go find something lethal to amuse yourself with."_

_She laughed at him. "Ahh, that tongue of yours hasn't changed a bit." She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling in invitation. "I wonder if anything else has." She deftly slid her hand across the table, her fingers brushing against his wrist. "What do you say we walk somewhere...show me around this keep you've grown so attached to, hmm? Catch up on old times." _

_He arched a brow at her; the sorceress had a penchant for idle dalliances, true; it was the one thing he had liked about her in the past. She was easy to please..and easier to get rid of when he had wanted her gone. But as he took in her dark, mischevious eyes and confident smirk, he felt an emptiness in his gut, and her brazen offer turned to ashes as it reached his ears. He brushed her hand away from him disdainfully. "Sorry, old girl, but you're not worth the effort to get out of my chair."_

_Her eyes narrowed. "You **have **changed," she said, all lighthearted seduction gone from her voice. "I've heard stories of your Captain, ranger; her name is on the lips of all the men that work here, and when I heard **you **were here as well, I just had to come see for myself..." She laughed, then, but the warmth was gone from it. "You're well and truly shackled, aren't you?"_

_"Quit your mouth, witch," he said, his voice steely. "I'm not shackled to anything, least of all some **woman**..." and even as he said it, he felt the wrench in his chest, and the slight edge in his voice that gave him away. Charene grinned in delight._

_"At least you try to deny it," she said, standing up. "Who exactly, though, are you trying to convince?" She inclined her head regally. "It was most pleasant seeing you again. Perhaps next time you'll have...had a change of heart, as it were, and we can have a more agreeable meeting." She turned, and moved through the crowded tavern, dissappearing amongst the sea of patrons._

_Blast that magic twisting harpy, he cursed to himself. He tossed back the remainder of the ale, her words writhing in his head. What in the hells was he **doing**? He had thought maybe he could convince the bard to drop this foolish quest, but even when she hadn't...well, he had stayed here, hadn't he, like some lovesick puppy begging for scraps. _

_Not scraps, whispered a voice in his head, one that he couldn't quite manage to squash. She gives you everything, asks for nothing...and she's a fool to do so, isn't she? _

_Furious at himself, he rose to his feet, throwing the glass against the wall with all his might. It shattered spectacularly, peices scattering acoss his table and the floor underneath it, and he saw Sal hurry over, an indignant expression on his face...but he ignored him, shoving his way to the door and out into the raging weather. The rain beat against his head and shoulders relentlessly as he squelched through the mud; the courtyard was deserted, every man and woman inside some shelter or another, so it was easy for him to spot the two, sodden, hooded figures riding up to the gate. Bishop felt a twinge of anger, apprehension, and...underneath it all...relief, as he recogized the smaller figure on horseback; wearily holding the reigns, but otherwise unharmed._

_The Captain had come home. _


	22. Goes around, comes around

Nevalle was handing our cloaks to one of the servants when the keep door burst open. I was a sopping mess; my hair hung down my back in a long, wet curtain, and my leather armor seemed to weigh a ton, soaked with water and chafing my skin. I was cold and uncomfortable, but it felt incredibly good to be back inside the keep's walls, and I smiled wearily as my companions all crowded around us.

"You finally made it back," said a voice by my side. Bishop arched a brow at me. "Heard the Castle got ambushed, but you seem all right, nonetheless." His voice was off-handed, casual, but I was warmed at the look in his eyes; a mixture of relief and irritation. I could almost hear his thoughts... _Think you can just go off and get killed, do you?_

Khelgar was at my elbow, patting my arm as if he wasn't quite sure I was there. "By the gods, the next time Nasher tells us to stay behind, you better believe I'm tellin' him to stuff that crown o' his somewhere unholy! To attack Castle Never - the King of Shadows, Garius... they're getting bold, they are."

Neeshka grinned at me eagerly. "Did you get any gold with the knighting ceremony? I mean...not that you're carrying it on you...I already checked your bags."

I laughed at her incredulously. "I didn't even get a _ceremony_; Nasher knighted me over the corpse of a dead Shadow Priest after the attack."

"Were you the one that killed it?" Bishop asked, his voice coldly amused.

I winked at him. "Of course."

"Sounds like a ceremony to me."

"As much as I hesitate to inturrupt this delightful conversation, _some _of us want to know what efforts are being made for the war." Ammon Jerro, surprisingly, was standing by the door. He made his way over to us, staring me down. "Will Nasher commit his forces this time? And what of Waterdeep and the Lords' Alliance?"

Zhjaeve smiled slightly at my surprised expression. "Know that word of all of this has traveled before the _Kalach-Cha_. Our duty is to carry the battle to the King of Shadows, his servants, and gather others who feel the same. "

I nodded at her. "Nasher gave me...us..." here I glanced at Nevalle, "tasks to support the war. First off, anything that we find to injure the King of Shadows is going to be pretty useless if we can't get to him."

Elanee frowned thoughtfully. "The Claimed Lands kill all life that enter it... we wouldn't be able to reach the King of Shadows in time travelling by foot. The movement through the Mere is never swift, even in the best of times."

Bishop snorted ruefully. "If there's a path at all... we'd still need to know where we were going, and even then, we'd probably die getting there."

"I don't think there's an easy answer." Sand sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "As much as I hate to say it, I think we should ask Aldanon for advice on this."

"Well, it's a direction, at least," I said, amuzed at the wizard's expression. "And of course, we need to bolster the keeps defense." My eyes caught Kana's, hovering at the edge of the conversation. "That'll be your job, I'm afraid; I'm not strategically minded, and you know how to train the men better than I do. We'll need to recruit who we can." I rubbed my temples, frowning. "I'll take care of finding allies..."

She nodded. "Yes, my Lady."

I cringed inwardly on hearing those words. _Ahh, nobility. The sickly sweet sound of someone licking my boot..._

"And what of the Shadow Reavers?" said Casavir, his eyebrows up in question. "We can defeat them, yes, but they will only return, again and again. They cannot be ignored if we mean to prevail."

"Excuse me, but I may have a suggestion..." Grobnar raised his hand, jumping eagerly.

"Oh _gods_," muttered Sand. Bishop pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"What is it, Grobnar?" I asked wearily.

"Well, sometimes these things come to you - I mean, we can't be the only ones the reavers have threatened or hurt." He smiled brightly at me. "We already have crossed paths with a bunch of allies and people and sorcerers and sages we never even knew before, and we did much of that through serendipity. So have a little faith...maybe an answer will come to us!"

Everyone stared at him.

Qara cocked her head at me. "I can set him on fire, if you like. It'd dry you out, too...a win-win."

Zhjaeve interceded. "Know that the gnome is correct; this may be the best we can hope for. We should search, but the problem of the reavers may be one that only time can aid us with."

"At the least, we have a path before us," rumbled the paladin, his eyes grim. "And an army to build."

"I, for one, have a bath to take, and clean clothes to put on," I said. "And so does Sir Nevalle. We'll start out in the morning, aye?" I nodded at them, fatigue dragging at me. "Best prepare yourselves; we've got a long haul before all of this is over with."

o o o o o o

I signaled to the bartender as I stood, glancing at my companions. "Go ahead and restock anything you need with the merchants; I'll pay our tab and finish up here, and meet you in a bit."

Everyone followed my example, standing and gathering equipment and armor they had shed when we had first entered the tavern to relax and eat. It was crowded as the hells in the little tavern; people had been evacuating Neverwinter for a goodly week, now, and most of them were travelling north, far away from the expanding boundaries of the shadow land, to take refuge in Port Llast. As my companions trailed out the door, I shoved my way to the bar, attempting to signal the barkeep's attention.

I glanced towards the fire, and noticed a young woman watching me. I arched a brow at her, but turned as the bartender approached me. "Aye lass, what can I do for ye? More ale for yer friends?"

"Not anymore, I'm afraid; how much do we owe you?"

I counted the coins into his hand, leaving a generous tip. I had a soft spot for anyone working in a tavern; I knew the sting of busking music on a corner all day only to have a few pennies thrown at you and some lukewarm compliments from the townsfolk. Even though those days were long gone (and I could make a pretty coin at any tavern if I wanted to) I still felt for those who lived off of drunken grattitude. He blinked at the coins in his hand, and stared at my smiling face. "I know the drink wasn't that good, miss."

"It wasn't half bad, either," I said, my smile widening, and turned away from his startled expression, trying to find a route through the crowd of bodies.

A hand touched my arm. "Excuse me..."

I looked up at the woman who had been sitting by the fire, watching me. I arched a brow at her, trying to contain my nervousness...I had had enough of assassins and spies to last me a lifetime, and I was beginning to learn people didn't just walk up to me out of curiousity anymore.

She was extremely pretty, I'd have to admit that; She had sun-kissed brown hair that suited her well, large brown eyes and delicate features. Her ears had the slightly pointed tips that marked a mixed heritage, and her smile was anxious. "Can I speak to you for a moment? It won't take long."

I eyed her suspiciously, but nodded. "Aye, if only for a moment."

She led me back to her seat...since nobody had taken it while she was up, I assumed she was a regular here (tavern ettiquette is stricter than some.) I sat next to her, and she faced me directly.

"My name is Malin; I'm a tracker in these parts. I saw you come through here before, asking questions about the Ember trial." She was examining me curiously. "Tell me something; the ranger that's travelling with you, Bishop. Why is he with you?"

I frowned at her, confused. "He helped us through Luskan to rescue a friend, and he's...been with us ever since. As to his own reasons, you'd have to ask him."

She didn't seem to notice the catch in my voice. She nodded at me thoughtfully. "Luskans...that makes sense. Bishop hates them." She stared at the fire, a bitter note in her voice. "It's the only real emotion I've ever seen from him, to tell you truly."

Her tone of voice, the familiar way she spoke of him, had half of me ready and willing to tag this half-elf as a predecessor...and a rival...but I ignored it. Well, attempted to, at least; jealousy is subtle when it rears it's ugly, green head. I narrowed my eyes at her. "How do _you _know Bishop?"

She glanced at me furtively, and chuckled. "I used to travel with him. No more, not after seeing what he did..." she seemed to catch herself, and sighed. "Just don't turn your back on him, all right? He's got a way of getting under your skin and making you trust him; and then he slides right back out, cutting you all the way." Her voice was tinged with sadness, and it finally swayed me.

I glanced over my shoulder, but my companions were long gone. I edged a little closer to her, leaning forward, worry in my voice. "Can you tell me what happened?"

She regarded me; there was nothing openly hostile or conniving about her mannerism, and I felt somewhat shameful for my earlier reaction to her. "We were running into squads along the border; small ones, two or three at the most, from Luskan. They weren't the usual border partrol; we usually just stayed away from them. These soldiers were...different." Her eyes were troubled. "Elite. Well trained, and travelling in pairs or small groups. Bishop...he'd just _attack _them on sight. No quarter, no mercy, no reason behind it that I could see, at all." She shook her head. "He never left a one alive. And towards the end, when I left him...he started _torturing _them."

My ears were buzzing. I could imagine the expression on my face, because her voice softened somewhat. "Whatever you think you know about him, whatever you..._feel _for him, in the end it's not going to matter. Do you understand?"

I felt completely deflated. From what I knew of Bishop...well, it made sickening sense, but...alas, my heart. It would not let me believe it. "I hear what you're saying, but...I trust Bishop, and I'm willing to give him a chance. I would with _anyone_. He's stayed with us...with me, thus far. He's risked his life with us, Malin.." I kept my voice as kind as possible. "And you...travelled with him _quite _a while ago, yes?"

"Aye, but you're not listening to me." She leaned back, and shook her head. "But, I can see he's already got you. At least, until he's finished with you." When she spoke next, her voice was quieter, her expression poignantly sad. "Just be more careful than I was. When it comes down to the wire, the one thing Bishop loves more than anything is himself."

o o o o o o

_He caught sight of her as she exited the tavern, and placed two fingers between his lips, whistling sharply. The others wandered over as she made her way towards him, and he frowned at the slightly troubled expression on her face. "What's eating you?"_

_She caught his eyes, and the look was gone, replaced by that rare, heart-stopping grin of hers that always made his hands itch to pull her close. "Just the urge to get out of this town." She glanced down in amusement as the idiot gnome nearly threw himself at her legs, tugging at her arm incessantly._

_"Harper, we've found them! The wisest sages you'll ever meet, and they know of the Wendersnaven!"_

_Elanee said dryly, "And they're almost impossible to understand."_

_Harper gave him an exasperated look as Grobnar began dragging her away, towards a smallish set of tents. The others turned to follow, Sand muttering to him in disgust, "I'm not sure I want to meet sages who Grobnar thinks wise." As he moved to follow the elven wizard, something caught his eye. He blinked, staring incredulously for a moment at the half-elven woman exiting the tavern, strapping her quiver around her shoulders. She glanced up, noticed him, and her lip curled in distaste. Malin, he thought thunderously. Her eyes flicked to Harper's retreating figure, and back to him, and a resolute, smug smile crossed her lips before she turned and walked away, dissappearing into the crowded Port Llast streets._

_Bishop had half a mind to follow her and wring her scrawny half-breed neck, but the others were already dissappearing into the far tents, and so with a curse, he turned on his heel and followed after them, her expression burning in his mind. What in the hells had that thin-blooded wench done to be so pleased about?_

o o o o o o

Nevalle greeted us as we walked through the threshold of the main gate, crossing the courtyard. "Any luck?"

"Aye, the Ironfists are with us," I said wearily. "The dwarves are preparing, but I'd imagine a representative will be here shortly. And...the lizardfolk are with us, as well." I couldn't keep the pride out of my voice. It had been a tough dance with words to get the lizards to side with me, but I had done it.

Nevalle's eyebrows shot up. "The _lizardfolk_?"

"Aye, that's my reaction, too," grumbled Khelgar, but I shrugged.

"We need all the help we can get, and they're with us to the end of it. They've lost their homeland to the King of Shadows' advance."

"Unfortunately, we couldn't find the Wendersnaven," intoned Grobnar sadly.

I bit my lip to keep from grinning. A few of my companions were coughing suspiciously, and Qara was snickering outright. Nevalle glanced down at the gnome. "Are you surprised? If you seek fairy tales, you'll only find them in books." His scathing gaze moved upwards, to me. "Perhaps now you will focus on more _important _efforts."

"Oh stuff it, _sir knight_. This whole mess is one big fairy tale," I said archly. "Besides, we have to cover every option available to us. And sometimes, stories and legendsare what _save _us, in the end. Ever thought of that? We didn't find the Wendersnaven, but Grobnar was given an...artifact, of theirs, that may prove useful." All right, maybe an invisible artifact that none of us could see; but I believed he'd been given something, and it was worth it to see Nevalle's sullen expression. There were bonuses to being a knight, I suppose; speaking to Nevalle as an equal was definately one of them. _Not that I'd spoken to him any other way in the past,_ I thought with amusement.

"If the two of you_ nobles_ are done bickering, can we go _inside _now? If I don't get real food soon, I'm going to spit the dwarf over a fire." This from Bishop, standing off to the side and fidgeting with his bow impatiently.

"I'll light it for you," grumbled Qara.

"Ye're more than welcome to try, both of ye!"

I could see Khelgar squaring up for a fight, and sighed. "_Enough_," I said irritably. "We could all use food and rest...excuse us, Sir Nevalle." And with that, I walked blithely past him towards the keep's doors, where the smell of food was already wafting from the kitchen's windows.

o o o o o o

I heard the door creak open behind me, but didn't need to look up. By now, I'd recognize that lightly treading, near-silent footfall anywhere, and smiled slightly to myself, keeping my eyes trained on the page in front of me. He leaned next to me against the table, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Not going to join the rest of us, Knight-Captain? Too good to blend with the commoners, are we?"

I ignored the baiting tone in his voice, and chuckled. "You know I'll be down later, ranger. I can't let Sal's new bard upstage me, now can I?"

"His songs are mostly about lillies, and dryads, and dancing _vegetables, _of all things. I think you'll be safe from that." He paced around the table. "You know, I saw an old _friend _of mine in Port Llast...ranger, by the name of Malin. You might have spoken with her?" The last barely sounded by a question; he seemed almost sure of my answer. But...not entirely.

I turned a page, eyes still down. "Aye, she spoke to me."

"Oh did she? And what did she have to say?"

"A lot about you." I glanced at him briefly. "Not to trust you. That you served only yourself."

He snorted derisively. "That all? Huh...same could be said about her worthless hide."

"She said that you tortured Luskans at the border." I kept my voice quiet and even, but my heart was pounding in my ears.

Silence reigned for a moment. The he placed his hands flat on the table, leaning across it to look me in the eye. "And if it was true, what would you think about it?" His voice was so cold it chilled me quicker than a blast of winter air, and I couldn't miss the dangerous undertone in his words.

I met his gaze firmly. "You really care what I think?"

"Aye, _lindo_, I do. Answer me." He nearly growled it.

"I have, traveling with me, a paladin who's betrayed his oaths. I have an elven wizard who can barely reign his tongue half the time, and who used to serve the Luskan hosttower. A sorcerous who nearly destroyed my uncle's tavern, and him along with it. A dwarf who abandoned his homeland and his people for a purely selfish pursuit to better his fighting skills." My eyes bore into his. "And a warlock, who's ill-placed war cost me the life of my mother; who is the reason I have this shard in my chest; and who _murdered _my friend, his own kin. Do you _really _think I give a _damn _about what you've done in your past? About what _any _of you have done? Do you not think I've probably killed more mothers' sons than you have, by now?"

He seemed frozen, his eyes locked on to mine. I broke his stare, glancing down into the book before me nonchalantly, and when I spoke again, the edge of anger was gone from my voice. "Besides, it's not my place to judge you," I said lightly. "Merely to kiss you."

He snorted in an ill-supressed laugh. "By the hells, woman, you'll say anything, won't you?" The book was pulled from my face, and a pair of rough, scarred hands grabbed my shoulders, pulling me forward over the table. "So kiss me, then." It came out almost a command, his voice gruff from his receding anger; and then the mood lightened considerably as I obliged him.

Needless to say, it was a while before we both made it down to join the others.


	23. The Circle of Meredelain

"Knight-Captain, there's a...tracker by the front gates that is asking to speak with you," said Kana, sticking her head in my "office." I sighed, and shoved the paperwork together into a...sort of...organized pile, and stood up, grateful to the hells, and the heavens, and anywhere else that would listen for the inturruption.

I walked through the keep, my booted heels making muffled echoes against the stone floors and walls. I started whistling a jaunty little tune to fill the void of silence that usually descended on the hallways, and nodded at the guards that snapped to attention as I walked by. I couldn't help but chuckle at that; what did they think, having to jump-to for an elven woman that barely reached their shoulders, who shoved her hands in her pockets and whistled while she walked? Aye, this keep was mine for the time being; but I chafed at the stone walls, and I had a feeling when the King of Shadows was defeated and this business was _done _with, I'd not be staying here much longer. The feel of the road again would be welcome_; and a following at all the local taverns, come to listen to my music..._

Or, I'd be dead, and it wouldn't matter at all.

With that cheerful thought, I stepped out into brilliant sunlight and made my way down towards the front gate, squinting...a slight figure stood in the shade of one of the many maple trees littering the courtyard, and I made my way over to it curiously. As I approached, the figure stepped out into the sunlight, and I nearly stumbled.

Daeghun nodded at me as I approached. "_Amin darn i' teu naa ie llie n'alaquel_. You look well, Harper."

_I see the moon is at your back_. A formal greeting; not surprising, coming from him. I was a little breathless; shocked, yes. Relieved? Well, yes, I suppose I was. "Father...when I saw West Harbor..." My gods, were those _tears _rising? _Get a hold of yourself, girl. _I stopped, cleared my throat, and made my voice as even as possible, but my heart was sick. "Where have you been?"

"The Mere has grown dark, and many villages needed help in leaving before it was too late. And I have sought the scent on the breeze, to learn of the dark hunter...this King of Shadows." His voice was formal, almost cold; a reprimand for questioning him. "I have discovered something and had to tell you, at once."

"Aye, tell me what, then?" I asked, crossing my arms (all right, childish, but it was an old habit when speaking with him), but before he could even open his mouth, Elanee was there, smiling in puzzlement.

"I heard one of the scouts was asking for me," she said, nodding to my father. "Well met - you must be Daeghun, yes? Your daughter has..."

"I am Daeghun, yes," he interjected, his voice shot with irritation. "And you are Elanee, of the Circle of the Mere?"

She arched a brow at him. "Once of the Circle, but no longer. What do you want with me?"

"This concerns you...both of you." He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and for the first time I noticed that he looked nearly exhausted. "As I was saying, I have been hounding the trail of the Dark Hunter and his minions, and have come across something I had thought lost. The druids of the Mere..." He looked at Elanee wearily. "...they live, still."

"Impossible." Elanee's retort came fast and cold. "I would have felt them."

"They are deep in the Claimed Lands, and as such, I feel they must have a ritual to sustain themselves." He shook his head at her. "I can only venture into the Mere for short periods of time, but I speak the truth on this matter."

"Elanee," I said gently, aware of her indignant expression. "If they _are _alive, we may need their help. It'd be worth the risk to try and find them."

She blinked as the thought struck her. "Yes, you're right. They may have even managed to restore some of the Mere, kept it safe from the shadows." She nodded at Daeghun. "Thank you for bringing us this information."

"Will you lead us through the Mere, father?"

"I cannot. I will mark the way for you, but there are other things I must do to prepare for this coming war." He handed me a parchment; a map, drawn carefully in his script. His eyes met mine; he was one of the few people I'd ever known who stood close to my heighth, and his gaze was always a powerful one, no looking up or gazing down. His expression softened somewhat. "_Na llie varna, ent tul vand_." Be you safe, and come home.

I couldn't help but smile, a little. "_Ent llie, vee' eithel." _I watched as he made his way out of the gate, a heaviness filling my heart.

Elanee arched a brow at me. "Your father isn't one for expression strong emotion, is he?"

I snorted. "How'd you guess?" I watched him dissappear down the road leading from the Keep. "Aye, he's got a good heart; he just doesn't know what in the hells to do with it."

She smiled wryly. "I can't imagine how someone like him could have raised someone like..." she caught my expression, and seemed to change her line of thought. "Well, _you_."

"Thanks," I said dryly. "I think."

"And now we have to find the Circle..." she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "With only a map marker to guide us, I do not know how able I will be to guide you. The Mere is near a stranger to me, now."

"Ah... I thought I heard the cries of a damsel in distress." Bishop walked towards us, a smug smile on his face. "Trying to replace Shandra, are you, Elanee?"

"This doesn't concern you, _Bishop_, so stop spying on us." Elanee's voice was thick with anger, and I glanced at her in no small amount of surprise.

I eyed Bishop. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know you're going to need someone besides Maiden of the Swamp here to lead you." He snatched the map from my hands, eyeing it dubiously, frowning. "Hmph. Your 'father' knows what he's doing, I'll grant you that." His frown deepend, and a ghost of a look I couldn't begin to name filled his eyes.

I pulled the map down from his face slightly, my eyebrows up in question. "Can you get us there?"

His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. "No." He looked away from me then, folding the map and sliding it into his belt. "But I can get you close enough."

o o o o o o

The dark miasma of the swamp must have been getting to me. I kept hearing things, seeing things...shadows slid between the trees, whispering, and it was more than once that I looked behind us as we trudged through the muck, my spine crawling. Finally, I pushed my way to the front of the line, where Bishop was leading.

"We're being followed," I whispered.

"I _know_," he hissed back, ducking below some hanging moss that crossed our almost invisible trail. "But they're not making a move to attack, and we're almost to where we're going, so shut up and trust me."

I snorted. "When you put it like that, how can I not?" I whispered scathingly...but I stayed with him, dogging his steps and matching his pace, until we spilled out into an open area; I nearly tripped, my foot caught on a rotten wooden fence that was covered in moss. The shadows seem to clear a bit, here; it looked to be the ruins of an old village, smoke-and fire stained and slowly losing it's battle with the surrounding wilderness, crumbling into the sawmp. "Where _are _we?"

"At the edge of the Mere, and as close to the Circle as I'm bringing you," Bishop said flatly. "The druidess can lead you from here, I expect?" He glanced at Elanee disdainfully.

She was staring around her in something akin to awe. "I recognize this place...Redfallow's Watch. I haven't been here in close to a century." She walked forward as if in a trance. "I heard the orcs took it, years ago..."

"It's just a worthless track of land, now," Bishop shot at her, angrily. He glanced at me, then looked away. "I'll wait for you here, to keep the way back clear; but you'd better hurry, before the shadows realize we're here and decide to recruit us."

I frowned at him quizzically...something wasn't right. "We don't know what's facing us, Bishop...we could use your help."

He chuckled coldly. "Bard, you need more help than you know." He looked at me from under his brows, and his voice was firm. "But I'm staying here. Not that I wouldn't _love _to run along and risk my life with the rest of you, but if someone doesn't keep an eye on the trail, we're stuck here." He arched a brow at me. "And...sorry, but there's no way in the hells that's happening."

I arched a brow at him. "Aye, well, if you think it's best. You're the tracker, after all." With a jerk of my head, I motioned to the others to follow me, and with Elanee at my side, we picked our way through the deserted town; Bishop stood silently at the edge of it, a shadowy silhouette against the dark tree-line, watching us dissappear.

My foot kicked something hard, and I stopped; it was wedged against a blackened, bent shield sticking halfway out of the ground. I heard Casavir swear quietly under his breath, "By the gods...", and I lifted my head, my stomach lurching at what was in front of me.

Shattered weapons, peices of armor, rotting boots, brass buckles bent and tarnished...and amidst it all, were the blackened, charred bones and grinning skulls, staring at the darkened sky. They lay scattered in the center of the town, in various poses of death, and I had to grit my teeth, smothering the dizzying sickness that swam over me. I bent, picking up the shield at my feet, brushing the dirt from it's face.

Qara peered over my shoulder. "Luskan," she said, her voice edgy. "Don't know what detachment, but they're probably soldiers. I recognize the shield from..." Here, she glanced at me, and seemed to change her mind... "...from someone my father knew." She sniffed in distaste. "What they were doing in this piss-pot village, I wouldn't know."

I looked at Elanee incredulously. "I thought you said this place was over-run by orcs?"

"I heard it was," she said, her voice troubled. "The ground here...I can hear the screams of this place. Someone _razed _it into nothing, and these..." here, she touched a nearby bone with her foot, "...these were in the midst of it." She shook her head, taking in the scene once more. "Whatever happened here, it could not have been orcs."

"As much as I _feel _for this poor little village, they are dead and gone; while _we _are yet alive. I would prefer to remain so." Ammon's voice ehoed coldly from behind me, and I nodded at Elanee, who took up the path once more.

As I walked swiftly behind her, I caught a glimpse of something that seemed...odd. A small group of headstones, roughly hewn and almost identical, were lined up at the edge of the village. I frowned as we passed them, my eyes drawn to their invariable orderliness_. Who sacks a village and then buries all the bodies in neat little rows...?_

o o o o o o

"Well, between the mud oozing through my boots and the stench of rotting foliage that by now surely _saturates _my clothing, I must say today has been a rather productive one," whispered Sand acidly.

"I'm sure you'll find a good use for the swamp muck you've collected; maybe mix it with the other hundred reagents you use to cast Mordekainan's Ethreal Chamber Maid?" Qara's voice was low and mocking, and I could just _hear _the intake of breath that Sand was preparing for a vicious retort...

Elanee held up her hand, hissing for silence. "We're here." She was staring intently into the forest, and I crouched next to her. "Something's happening," she whispered. "Daeghun was right...they're alive, I can see them, but..." here, her voice faltered. "Something is...different about them."

They were circled, around a tree; eight of them, all hooded. The tallest one stepped forward, and lowered his hood, calling out, "I feel more at peace with each passing day. I know you feel it as well, Naevan."

I couldn't tell who the druid was talking to, and nobody spoke. I glanced at Elanee; her expression was puzzled. "Naevan," she whispered. "But I don't see him anywhere..."

The elf called out again, "Will silence be your only answer?"

"Silence and contemplation are my _only _peace in this place. Have you forgotten that I am your captive, Vashne?" Vaguely I registered where the voice was coming from just as Elanee sucked in her breath in a horrified gasp next to me. When she looked at me, I could see the realization dawning in her eyes.

"They have him trapped, in the folds of the tree," she whispered. She rose quickly. "I must put a stop to this." She strode out through the brush and into the clearing before I could stop her, and I cursed vehemently under my breath, gesturing for the others to follow me.

"Elders!" She called out. They all turned, every hooded face pointed in our direction. "It is Elanee. Forgive me for not seeking you out sooner...is Elder Naevan - "

"Who are these that follow you?" The one called Vashne pointed at me, his eyes blazing with quiet fury.

Elanee halted in her approach, her voice confused. "They are my allies; my friends. They helped me reach you."

Vashne sneered at me - us - in disgust. "They have the _stench _of civilization and war upon them." His eyes darted to Elanee's face, quick as a snake and glinting just as dangerous. "As do _you_."

"Elder Vashne, please listen," she said earnestly. "This is the one that I have been watching, from West Harbor..."

Immediately, we all knew she had said something wrong. All eyes snapped to me, and Vashne was looking at me in horrified recognition. One of the druids behind him said, incredulously, "You have...brought the Shard-Bearer? _Here_?"

"The one that the Dark Hunter warned of," whispered Vashne. He whirled on Elanee, his face furious. "You have brought death and war to us, Elanee! This one must be stopped!" His voice lowered; it was soft, compelling, almost seductive. "Join with us, Elanee; we must destory this Shard Bearer, else the Mere will be thrown into chaos, an the blanance we've striven for so tirelessly upset forever." His eyes were wild, gleaming, and I surreptitiously placed both hands on the hilts of my scimitars. _This isn't going to end well._

"Elders...I..." she looked aghast. "You're wrong! This King of Shadows threatens us _all_, and this woman is the one who can save us! You must believe me. You must _help _us."

Vashne's eyes glittered, cold and angry. "I see you have been too long in human lands, Elanee. So be it." The other druids were moving towards us, menace in their step, and those glittering eyes fell on me once more.

Before he could even speak, my blades were drawn, and I could hear my companions behind me doing the same.

I stared at him coldly as he gathered his magic around him like a storm, and he intoned, as if reciting a prayer, "It is time, my brothers and sisters, to feed the land!"

"Oh yes," I said quietly. "You will."

o o o o o o

_He felt a light touch on his shoulder, and turned; she was standing there, blood and mud on her armor, a resigned expression on her face. The others were trailing up behind her._

_He smirked. "I'm assuming it didn't go well?"_

_"No, not well at all." She wiped her brow, and said, quietly, "Although it's good to see the shadows didn't eat you while I was gone."_

_He snorted in amusement. "I think you're the only one who enjoys the taste of me, bard," he growled._

_ He saw her mouth twitch in an involuntary half-smile, and grinned to himself as she whispered fiercely, "Surrounded by the dangers of the Mere, and that's all you can think of to say? For shame." She gave him a light kick against the back of his calf. "Lead us out of here, ranger. This ruin of a village makes my spine crawl."_

_If you only knew the half of it, he thought. He turned, starting down the path that had led them there, hearing the crashing and rustling of undergrowth that indicated the others were following. Oh, if you only knew._


	24. The heart that guides the will

I had had just about enough of dragging Qara's injured carcass (and her incessant whining) as I kicked open the front door to the Keep; which was no mean feat, I might add. Those doors are thick, but I was too impatient to get the human girl's weight off of my back to wait for Zhjaeve to catch up with us and open it for me. _Lousy, scum ambassador_, I seethed. Sydney Natale had called us out to some backwoods meeting place to discuss a weakness she had discovered in the Shadow Reavers; and when I had (stupidly) arrived, with Qara and Zhjaeve in tow as she had requested, she had attacked us. _But the whole episode wasn't without it pluses, was it?_

Casavir hurried to us, and I gratefully handed over the limping young woman to be supported on his broad, muscled shoulder. "What happened?" he asked, aghast at our wounds.

Zhjaeve finally walked through the door behind us. "Know that the Luskan ambassador attempted to murder us, after gaining information from myself and the _Kalach-Cha_." She looked at me apologetically. "I am shamed that I gave her the answer she sought so readily. I did not know it was her intent to ambush us."

"It's not your fault," I said dismissively. "At least you kept us alive when she did." Casavir had already begun healing Qara, and he glanced at me as I produced an aging parchment. I smiled at him triumphantly. "And we finally have an answer to the Shadow Reavers. Natale was carrying a list of their True Names; it may be enough to weaken them."

His eyebrow shot up, and his voice was...if not _overjoyed_, at least warmer than usual. "The battle goes well for us, then." Qara pushed away from him slightly, able to stand on her own two feet once more. She glared at him.

"I almost _died_, and that's all you can say?" She snorted at us. "I, for one, am _tired _of walking into ambushes. If you'll excuse me..." She stalked off, the sound of her heeled boots clacking against the flagstones echoing down the hall.

"I'm sure that's princess speak for 'Thank you, Casavir,'" I said wryly, and the paladin chuckled.

"I do not take offense to it. And I do not perform such services looking for thanks." He gave me a rare smile, and I realized almost in shock at how rare it was getting these days, to see him smile.

"Well, you've scraped my hide off the floor more times than I could count, and I'm sure I've thanked you enough to make you sick of it," I said, my lips curling upwards in response. Ah, my spirits were high, I'll admit. Things were _finally _falling into place...

"Ah, yes, we're all _thankful _for the paladin's power of prayer," said a cutting voice from behind me, and Bishop was standing in the doorway, his expression irritated. "Especially you, dear girl...we all can't forget that golem's blade, can we?" He was speaking to me, but his eyes were fixed past me, trained on Casavir's face. His expression grew sly, and he said, off-handedly, "But _I _should thank you as well, paladin. That scar she has, it's healing nicely...I remind myself every time I look at it to mention what a _fine _job you did. And when I touch it, I can't even tell the difference between it and the rest of her skin..."

"_Enough_," I hissed fiercely. My face was flaming, and I couldn't look Casavir in the eye. "There's no _need _for that, Bishop."

Casavir's face was harder than stone, eyes narrowed until they were barely two blue slits. "I am merely glad that at least someone was able to save her from death, that day," he said evenly...his emphasis on "someone" was not lost on me. "And I pray that she not need my skills in healing again." He turned to leave, throwing over his shoulder, "I am sure you feel the same way, Bishop."

I turned to look at Bishop, hands up questioningly. "What was the point of that, please?"

"Pure entertainment," he said, arching a brow in my direction. "You look a little worse for wear. Sydney ambush you, did she?"

I eyed him warily, crossing my arms. "Aye, she did that. But it turned out better for us; we've got a way to fight the Reavers, now."

He tapped the side of his head before turning to leave. "Luskans. What did I tell you? I wonder how many more of them will come after you before they realize you're not easy game." He shook his head. "Ah well, more's the fun for us, yes?" He gave me one more appraising glance before walking back out the front door, headed towards the tavern.

I rubbed a hand across my eyes, leaning against the wall. Zhjaeve stepped forward, and placed her hand on my head, casting a small healing spell. I nearly jumped when I felt her touch; I had forgotten she was there. Her luminous eyes watched me as my superficial wounds closed beneath the onslaught of her magic. "You are troubled," she said.

I smiled at her wearily. "The times we live in have all of us troubled, I think."

"No," she said gently. "You are troubled because your mind is telling you something. And your heart is telling you another thing. And you, the true you, your center of being, is caught in the middle of it, not knowing which one to believe."

I stared at her in something akin to awe. "How are you getting this?"

"The shard you carry lies close to your heart, _Kalach-Cha_," she said. "It's energy resonates, and I hear it's voice. It carries the secrets of your heart in it's song, and I listen to it, because I seek to _know _you." She brought her hand down as the healing spell ended, but those eyes still watched me. "Your mind tells you that the dark one, the hunter of the forest, weakens your will. And your heart tells you that you love him."

I inhaled sharply, my voice panicked. "I never said...!"

"Not in words, _Kalach-Cha_. But it is there for those who will see it." She glanced down at the tip of my scar, visible above the collar of my armor. "Your will must be steadfast in the times ahead, and you must decide which part you will listen to." When she met my eyes again, the expression in them was one of resolution. "The time is fast approaching, _kalach-cha_. These shards you carry represent the division in your thoughts and purpose. Are you ready to make them whole?"

I swallowed hard, pressing a hand against my chest. I could feelt it even through my armor; a warmth, pulsating softly in rythym with my heartbeat. Now or never, I thought, and nodded at her. "I'm ready."

"Then rest, and prepare. Soon, the pieces you carry will be forged anew."

o o o o o o

"Is there a reason why we keep ambling back into our enemy's stronghold like cows without a cow-herd?" said Qara irritably.

"Oh yes. It's because every time we come here, you still manage to survive it," said Bishop sardonically. "But don't worry...one of these times, we'll get it right."

I know I should have told them both to stuff it, but...well, in a sick, half-hearted way, I was agreeing with him; I remembered too well the insults and pathetic whining that had barraged my ear a few days earlier when I had helped the sorceress limp back home. So, gleefully, my mouth stayed shut.

"Know that we are close to the place where the blade was once shattered," said Zhjaeve soberly. "There should be a scar, a deep mark in the ground."

I frowned thoughtfully, a memory surfacing in my head. "I think I might know of a place."

Ammon nodded, his voice grim. "Yes, I remember vaguely where it might have been, as well. Lead on, Kross...I will let you know if anything looks familiar."

Khelgar stood close to me, hefting his axe. "And do it quick; I'm not likin' the feel of this place. The shadows are thick, here."

"For once, I agree with you. There's..._things_, moving out in the woods. The sooner we get out of here, the better." Neeska's voice was high and uneasy, and I drew my blades as I set off, peering every now and then at the thick forests surrounding the remains of West Harbor.

I almost didn't recognize it, anymore. A hazy darkness had descended on the Mere, as if the sky was forever blanketed by thick clouds, and it cast a gray light on everything around us. Skeletons of burnt buildings stood rickety and empty in the dense fog, and I shivered slightly as we crossed the center of town..._wait a minute._ I stopped, horror dawning on me as I gazed around at the empty square.

The bodies were gone.

No sooner had the thought crossed my head than shadows slithered across our path, solidifying. I stared into the face of Georg Redfell, who smiled at me in a twisted parody of his normal self. "Ah, Harper, you've returned." He took a step towards us, an unholy light in his eyes. "Come on, give us a song."

"We've missed your music," said a voice behind us, and we all turned; Retta Starling was walking towards us, as well. "And your stories. Are you staying this time, Harper?"

"Aye, I can tell you she is," Ward Mossfield appeared around Georg, smiling at me. "She's home, now. She'll stay with us for as long as she likes."

"An illusion...merely ghosts to taunt you," whispered Casavir fiercely, in my ear. "I do not know what foul magic is at play, but tread carefully."

"No _shite_," snorted Bishop from behind me.

I lifted my chin, my blades held ready. "You aren't the people I once knew; whatever trick this is, I'm not some half-witted vagabond to come running into your arms." I nearly snarled. "Shadows, all of you; I hope you're ready to face oblivion."

It worked; they dissolved into hissing, screeching black figures, and they threw themselves at us without a moment's hesitation. The fight was quick, but intense; almost everywhere I turned, malevolent eyes were in my face, and shadowed claws were grasping for me; and once again, I thanked Deneir that I had friends with me, or else I'd have joined their ranks in record time. Bishop had forgone his longbow in favor of two wickedly gleaming swords, arrows not being much use against shadow, and he fought with his back to mine; I could hear him cursing at the things throughout it all, and strangely enough, it hardened my resolve. _He fights beside you_, my heart whispered. _What more do you need?_

And in a clarifying moment, the shard in my chest resonated once, deeply, with a momentarily heavy heartbeat, and my vision seemed to clear dramatically; and in a flash of blades, the last of the shadows fell, dissipating into nothingness in the trail that my scimitars left in the air.

I caught Zhjaeve's eye. She gave me a quick, near-imperceptible nod.

As we caught our breath, I noticed a deep, blackened mark on the ground, not far from my old home. I gestured to my companions, heading towards it, and they followed, a rustle of armor and leather and weaponry in the sudden silence that followed our quick battle.

When I reached the edge of it, Zhjaeve touched my shoulder, bringing me to a stop. "Know that this is the place." She caught her breath momentarily. "The scar runs deep."

"She has the right of it," said Ammon Jerro quietly. "This is where I struck at the King of Shadows... and the blade, it shattered."

Zhjaeve nodded at me firmly. "It is here that we must mend the blade anew and close the wound."

We spread the shards out over the large, blasted area of ground, the hilt at one end. Zhjaeve and I sat on opposite sides, while everyone else stood back, watching. "Listen to my voice, grasp the hilt – and close your eyes." Her voice took on a deep, echoing undertone. "In this place, broken upon shadow, carved deep in earth; what once was sundered, from two peoples born; make all that was scattered whole again – by the heart that guides the will."

The hilt in my hand was growing warmer, and there was a painful pressure in my chest...

"By the will that guides the hand..."

I could sense a growing light through my closed eyelids, but I kept them tightly shut...

"And the hand... that guides the blade..."

There was a sound, like shattered glass, and I opened my eyes; rising from the hilt of my sword were all the shards, swirling in the air. I watched as they slowly descended, melding together like the pieces of a puzzle, and settled against the hilt; as the last peice fell into place, I felt a sharp tug in my chest, and a brilliant flash of light burst from the blade.

And when it faded, I held the Sword in my hand.

"It worked," I said, my voice sounding almost strangled. "You did it..."

"It was your will that reformed the blade. I merely walked with you." Zhjaeve's voice sounded tired, haggard; but proud. Her eyes shone as she looked at me, and I could senes a smile underneath the veil she wore. "Only for you will the sword live. No longer do you carry the Heart of the Sword. Truly, now, you are its Heart."

I was awash with sensation, energy crackling through my veins like a conduit. "The power from this blade...it's _incredible_." I had never owned such a weapon. _Or been owned by such a weapon..._

"That is not the power from the blade you feel. It is your own strength focused in the blade itself."

"As impressed as I am that you managed to reforge such a powerful weapon, I feel we would be safer discussing it somewhere else," said Ammon from where he stood with the others. "We are still in the Claimed Lands, and we are in danger here, sword or no."

Almost as if on cue, a low, gravelly voice cut through our conversation. "I could not agree with you more." We all turned, and my stomach dropped. A Shadow Reaver approached us, his bare skull grinning at me. "How does it feel to be back home, Shard-Bearer?"

I stood, still clutching the Sword of Gith tightly. His voice was disdainful. "Is that the famed blade? It looks so fragile... and little use without you to hold it together."

Zhjaeve stood, as well, tall at my side. "I think you will find its edge more than a match for shadow and mere words. Will you test it, thrall of shadows?"

"My Master does not fear a poorly forged blade." Those eyeless sockets raked me with their blind stare. "Or a poorly forged hero."

"Oh, poorly forged, is it? Let's see how you fare, then." And, without really thinking, I leapt at him, my newly made sword flashing like liquid quicksilver. A stupid move...but I realized with growing panic that this heroism bit was growing on me...

"Stall the reaver while I recite its True Name!" shouted Ammon, and as if they were the magic words, everyone rushed forward, and the fight began anew. I immediately was sent flying, skidding across the grass like trebuchet fodder. _Well, that was nicely done_, I thought to myself acidly as I scrambled to my feet, now yards away from where my friends harried the reaver. My sword was glowing rather brightly; the pieces seemed to float apart for a second before fastening together again, and I suddenly had an idea...

o o o o o o

_"Damn it, dwarf, move yourself!" he shouted in frustration, dodging another spell thrown in his direction. "Else I'll start using you as a shield!"_

_Khelgar grunted as his axe made another swing at the reaver, grazing it; it was impossible. Every time the thing looked to be merely dead, it merely lifted it's arms and shadows came running, circling around it's body even as the wounds it carried were healed. And they'd have to start all over again, an endless dance of regeneration. _

_He thought about running. If he just turned, and kept on moving, they'd be too busy with the reaver to stop him. He could track his way out of here; maybe. He'd have a better chance of living through that than trying to kill this beast, no doubt about it. And as, once again, the thing began to heal itself, Bishop nearly dropped his weapons, half-turning..._

_The sight of Harper stopped him. She was glowing slightly with the Sword held high, the blade pointing at the reaver, her face a mask of concentration; even as he watched, the pieces flew apart, sailing towards the reaver and slicing through him with a sickening series of thuds...he watched as they flew into the air, circled around, and slammed through it's body again, knocking the thing to the ground, before flying around and coming at it again..._

_"Quick, press the attack! Jerro is nearly finished with the recitation!" Casavir's voice was appropriately holy sounding, and he flew past Bishop, his longsword slicing down towards the fallen Reaver. The others joined him, and he cursed to himself before lending his own efforts to the battle._

_In a blast of brimstone, Ammon finished reading the Name, and the reaver shrieked in agony as a handful of weapons imbedded themselves in it's body. This time, no shadows came to heal him; he crumbled into dust before their eyes, scattering into nothingness._

_"Yes!" whooped Neeshka in exultation; her tail was swinging back and forth wildly. "We did it!"_

_"Harper did it," muttered Ammon, a grudging respect in his voice. "Well done, lass."_

_She had stopped glowing, the sword neatly back together in her hand. She looked deathly pale, her cheeks ashen. "Gods...that takes a bit out of you..." She took a few unsteady steps towards them, and then he watched in dismay as her eyes rolled back in her head, and she hit the ground like a sack of wet flour._

_ "Gods-be-damned woman," he cursed, sheathing his blades. Casavir made a move towards her, but Bishop shoved past him, muttering scathingly "I've **got **it, paladin," and in a few steps he knelt at her side. He pressed two fingers against her neck, his heart hammering; but no, there was a pulse there, beating evenly, if not strong._

_"She is merely exhausted," said Zhjaeve softly. "She has channeled more energy than she is used to, and it has taken much from her. With time, she'll be able to handle it."_

_"We certaintly hope so," Bishop snapped. He tucked her weapons into her belt, and wedged an arm under her body, carefully shifting her onto his shoulder before rising again; though she was rather tall for an elf, he handled her weight easily. "Anyone else up for getting out of here?"_

_"I've been saying that since we got here," muttered Qara._

_Ammon arched a brow at him, which he ignored. "Gather round," said the warlock. "I can get us out of this place, at least to the edge of the Mere." As the others crowded around him, he lifted his hands; in a flash, they were gone, the sudden silence falling on West Harbor as if none had been there to begin with._


	25. Stay

_Original lyrics "Do virgins taste better?" by Randy Farran_

o o o o o o

I applauded Hackney, laughing along with everyone else as he attempted to make a flourishing bow and almost fell onto his face. Number one rule of the stage; don't drink while playing. Once you were drunk, your performance was more of an endurance test than anything else (albeit still entertaining.) We had returned merely an hour ago after destroying the bridges that led into our lands; an attempt to, if not stop, then slow the shadow army that had been marching towards Neverwinter. With the sword reforged, it had been only a matter of time until Black Garius had come looking for me, and battle was now upon us...but for tonight, saturated with the exhultation of victory, we were celebrating while we still had a chance.

Bishop stood alone, in a far corner of the room, toying with the string of his bow. He had been in a dark mood as of late, taking brooding to a whole new level. My heart ached that he wouldn't speak to me of whatever was troubling him, but I counseled myself that that's just the way that he was. He still spent his nights in my bed, and some moments I would awaken to see him staring at the ceiling, eyes open and glittering in the moonlight. But any effort I made to question him on it would have those dark eyes turning to me, and his rough voice whispering "Nothing. Go back to sleep, _vanima_." And it was rare enough for his voice to carry anything akin to tenderness that in a fit of unease mixed with warm pleasure, I would do so, and that would be that.

Someone jostled me out of my thoughts. "Captain! You'll sing us a song, yes?" Bevil was at my elbow, grinning at me. I had been surprised (and overwhelmingly relieved) when he had shown up at my gates, hell bent on joining the ranks in the Keep. He had made Sergeant in no time, with his militia training, and I was grateful more than once over that I had him. He gave me a playful little shove, and everyone around me laughed as I stumbled up onto the stage, patting Hackney on the back. "Take a break, old boy," I said, grinning as he tried to focus on my face. "Else you'll end up decorating the floor with your supper."

I removed my fiddle from my pack and unwrapped it, cocking my head at the audience confidently. "So, my brave men and women! What shall I play for the finest soldiers in Neverwinter?"

They erupted in cheering, and someone shouted, "Play that dragon song you sang a fortnight ago, Captain! None o' the other boys have heard it yet!"

I grinned, placing the fiddle under my chin. "Just don't tell Miss Jen I'm playing it again, or she'll skin me alive." The bow flew over the strings in a lively, upbeat melody, and they began clapping along as I sang:

_ "A dragon has come to our village today.  
We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away.  
Now he's talked to our king and they worked out a deal.  
No homes will he burn and no crops will he steal. _

_ Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch.  
Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch.  
Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect.  
But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect.."_

Some of them began singing with me on the chorus, and a few feet began stomping...

_ "Do virgins taste better than those who are not?  
Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what?  
Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot?  
Do virgins taste better than those who are not?"_

I could see Casavir shaking his head at me from the back of the crowd, but the smallest ghost of a smile was on his face, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. I winked across the room at him as I continued.

_ Now you have such good taste in your women for sure,  
They always are pretty, they always are pure.  
But your notion of dining, it makes us all flinch,  
For your favorite entree is barbecued wench._

_  
Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat,  
If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat.  
No more will our number ever grow small,  
We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all! _

They all joined me in the chorus, and I was near laughing at the end; two of my soldiers had stood up and were swinging each other around, singing lustily along with the words, and they both curtsied to each other in a ridiculous fashion as the song ended, to everyone's delight. I played on, keeping the music light and the atmosphere celebratory; after a few rounds of it, Hackney jumped back up on stage, looking slightly more clear-headed, and I re-entered the crowd to friendly shoves and much back-patting.

Bevil was laughing at me, his eyes bright. "I remember the first time you played that, Daeghun near whipped you in the middle of the town square." His eyes grew a little sad. "It scared Amie half to death; remember she kept asking you if dragons really ate virgins?"

I smiled at that. "Aye, and I told her dragons ate _everything_." I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Although I do remember you standing behind the virgin theory quite staunchly."

He nearly blushed, and shrugged at me, grinning. "A young man's got to answer when oppertunity knocks."

I laughed, and shook my head at him; as I did so, something caught my eye and my laughter died in my throat. Bishop's eyes were on me, cold, calculating; he turned, and walked out of the back door, disappearing up towards the keep.

Bevil frowned at me. "Captain? Are you all right?"

"Aye...I'm fine. Tell the boys I'll be back in a bit, will you?" I gave him a quick smile and gently pushed my way through the crowd, slipping out the back door. I could see Bishop's dark shadowy shape ahead of me, climbing the steps that led to the battlements, and I broke into a jog, catching up with him. "Hey!"

He glanced at me as I came level with him, but kept walking. "Something you _need_, Captain?"

"Aye, what gives with the black mood?"

He snorted at me, moving towards the wall. He crossed his arms over the stone, leaning out over the edge, his profile a shadow in the moonlight. "I'm tired of this war, tired of thinking the next time I go galavanting off with you I'll end up stone cold dead." He shook his head in disgust as I slid up next to him, leaning my elbows against the wall. "You don't even see it, do you? Down there, with your men, cheering you on like some sort of hero. Do you even realize that tomorrow they might all have to _die _for you?" His voice was scathing, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Of course I do! It's on my thoughts every waking second, has been since the beginning." I arched a brow at him. "You speak as if this is all _my _trouble, as if this battle is my fault, but it's not; even if I didn't exist, the King of Shadows would be doing exactly as he is doing."

"Oh, it _is _your trouble, because you've taken up this...holy _banner_, to save everyone, to make yourself some sacrifice on an altar," he spat, and when he looked at me next, his hands slid around my shoulders, and his tone eased down a little. "Look, war's about to hit this place hard - and you _aren't_ going to win. Some things are just bigger than you, little elf. I say we head out now, while we still can."

I frowned at him. "But what about-?"

"No one else," he cut me off, his eyes dark and earnest, his face bending closer. "Just you and me, is what I'm saying. I can guide the two of us out of here, nobody has to know." His lips crushed against mine, then, angry and desperate, and his arms slid around my waist like a vice, pulling me against him as if afraid I would wriggle away. He pulled back slightly, his voice gruff. "_Damn _it, woman, just let Neverwinter _fall_. It's no use fighting this...and you _know _it."

"Bishop..." my voice came out in a whisper, thick with feeling, and my heart wrenched in my chest even as I spoke. "I...I can't. I can't leave them."

The light died in his eyes, and his grip on me loosened. He shut his eyes, and shook his head in a bitter, half-chuckle. "Yeah...I thought as much. These people are like stones, and this war's an ocean...you might have made it out alive, but they're dragging you down."

He tried to step away from me, but my heart was crying out, and I fastened my hands on his wrists, refusing to let him leave. "Bishop," I said gently. "You have to understand..."

"Oh, I understand, _Harper_. You want to throw everything away in a useless gesture of heroism, that's fine by me, but I'll not be there to watch you do it."

"Please," I said, and something in my tone made him pause. His eyes met mine, dark and hunted, and so beautiful that I ached. I smiled at him sadly, and there was an echo of that first night in the forest in my voice. "Stay."

o o o o o o

I could hear the sound of the revelry dying out in as the time passed, and everyone stumbled to their rooms for the night. For once, he had fallen asleep before me, and I lay encased in his arms snugly, his chest pressed against my back, the warmth of his steady breathing gently caressing my neck. There was a growing unease in my gut that kept me awake; the look in his eyes as he had held me, the desperate, frenzied way his touch had burned against my skin, left me unable to close my eyes against the night. My thoughts were whispering to me that I had _finally _won him over, but there had been an unrecognizable look in his eyes on the battlements tonight, and I didn't know what to make of it.

_Relax_, the voice whispered. _He's here, and you love him. That's all that matters, yes?_

I shut my eyes and grasped for sleep, attempting to ignore the other voice that answered; _So the stories would have you believe.  
_

o o o o o o

A voice cut through my consciousness; pounding, on my bedroom door. "My lady! My lady!"

My eyes snapped open, head aching from being jerked out of a deep sleep. I blinked muzzily, my arm sliding over the other side of the bed; empty. Bishop was gone. Before the thought even registered, my door burst open, and Elanee was standing there.

"I apologize, my friend," she said smoothly. "But the young solider refused to open your door." She looked as if she had been recently awoken, as well; her hair was mussed and untidy, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

"It can't be much past midnight," I said groggily, pulling the blankets up tightly under my arms. "What's happening?"

"The enemy army has been spotted in the fields outside the keep. Already, siege towers have been spotted being raised up. Your young Lieutenant Kana requires your presence in the war room." She nodded at me, smiling slightly. "We'll wait for you to get dressed."

o o o o o o

When I entered the war room, everyone was already settled around their various seats. Bishop, I noted, was leaning against the wall, his face a blank mask. I was more than a little relieved to see him; the panic that had shot through me when I discovered him gone had nearly blinded me as I had attempted to throw on all my equipment at once, and it had taken me a bit longer than usual in my scrambling.

He wouldn't meet my eyes. I sat at my place and pushed him from my thoughts for now, my eyes falling on Nevalle and Kana. "What's the word?"

"Garius brings his army at an early hour. Surprise is his ally here, but his cover of darkness will not last."

Ammon snorted derisively. "No doubt he plans on a swift victory."

Nevalle interjected. "Regardless, his siege towers have been spotted in the distance, and our men will need your guidance on the wall to repulse them."

I rubbed my tired eyes, my hair falling in my face; I had not taken the time to plait it, and assumed it looked at wild as Elanee's did. "They arrived sooner than we expected."

"Our delay at the bridge was only a momentary one," said Kana quietly. "Garius must have pushed his army ferociously to have reached us so quickly."

"Yes, well, that is the advantage to having an untiring force of undead soldiers," said Sand wryly.

I frowned thoughtfully, my dagger in hand...I had buried the point deep into the table, and was now spinning it in-between my fingers. "We'll need to take out those towers, but not too quickly," I said. "He might be counting on those to overtake us as fast as possible, and he might not even commit his whole force until he sees how we handle them; but if we can drag out destroying them until morning..."

"...we can defeat his army without facing it in it's entirety," finished Casavir, catching my train of thought. He nodded at me firmly. "The undead that walk will be destroyed by the light of day. Aye, I think you have the right of it, Captain."

"We can spare two units with you on the walls, Captain," said Kana. "Who will you have lead them?"

I looked into the expectant faces gazing at me. "Casavir," I said quietly, "The men are going to need you."

His face was firm and resolute, and he nodded at me. "I shall not fail you, Captain."

"And Khelgar, the dwarves will be up there with you; I think it right you should lead them."

He puffed up to nearly twice his size. "Be my pleasure to knock the enemy down - even farther than normal, this time."

My eyes found Sand and Qara. "Can I count on you two to rouse Startear from his eternal hermitism? The three of you together would be near unstoppable in taking out those towers."

They eyed each other warily. "As long as the princess doesn't burn the entire keep down in one of her tantrums, I...believe I could stopper my ears against the sound of her voice and go with her, yes," Sand sniffed.

"As if you could set a fire with anything besides a torch, hedgewizard," she growled, but she caught my look, and nodded sullenly.

"Good." My eyes found Bishop. "I need you to lead the archers," I said quietly. "Snipe whoever you can get a bead on; our walls will keep out their arrows and give you a pretty good shot."

He arched a brow at me. "Is that an order, then? Any more "favors" like this, and I won't live through the day."

"Keep talking and you won't," grumbled Khelgar.

I ignored the dwarf. "Look, Bishop, you're the best I've got. I need someone with good eyes and a good aim; it's blacker than pitch out there and half of my archers won't know where to shoot unless you're with them."

He narrowed his eyes at me, but shrugged, his voice slightly less irritated. "Can't argue with that, but that won't hold the day, trust me."

I glanced at Kana, who nodded at me firmly.

I sighed. "The walls await us." I tightened my sword belt around my waist; on my right hip, the Sword of Gith sang softly and eagerly in it's scabbard, humming with energy. _At least one of us was ready for this_... "Let's go."


	26. The oldest tale is the one of betrayal

"To the gates!" I shouted, hustling men in front and behind me. I was weary and covered with blood, sweat, and soot from the fireballs that had blasted the wooden structures, but the towers had _finally _come down; only to have the gates bashed open by the undead, throwing themselves relentlessly against it. I was swearing in a constant stream of elven, my voice harsh and authoritative even in my own ears. I flew down the stairs that led from the battlements down to the main courtyard, the Sword in my right hand, one of my scimitars in my left; and nearly bowled over one of the blockades that my soldiers had already set up.

"Kana!" I barked. "Shut those damn gates!"

"Captain!" She cried, relief evident in her voice. She turned, shouting, "Soldiers, shut the gates! The Captain has arrived with the remaining forces!" I sprinted to her side, and she smiled at me wearily. "The sun is rising, Captain...the undead will soon be burning under the sun's rays. Even with his remaining undead, Black Garius will be hard-pressed to breach the inner walls." She nodded firmly. "And without their towers, they'll be defenseless against our attacks from above."

"Yes," echoed a cold, bitter voice. "Defenseless."

The sound of that voice...ah, if I could only describe it. A thousand arrows could not have pierced me so well. I turned, and saw him, tall, almost elegant in the way that he stalked down the stairs like some wild cat, his eyes on me. The archers that had been on the walls with him trailed behind, confusion on their faces. I felt an alarm go off in my head as the first cries from the gate reached my ears..."Captain! The gates aren't _working_...!"

I felt the blood draining from my face. His lip curled. "Stay on the walls, _'Captain' _- you might live through this." Though his face was near merciless in expression, his voice was laced with regret, rough and harsh, and it dropped into a near murmer when he spoke. "For what it's worth, you almost made me stick around, _lindo_...but that's why I _have _to do this."

_No, no, no, no, no, no..._My mind reeled that this couldn't be possible._"_Bishop," I croaked, my voice strangled into barely a whisper, "What have you done?"

He lifted his chin, striding to where the soldiers struggled with the gate. "Let me show you." I watched as he brushed them all aside, fingering the lever disdainfully. "This gate of yours isn't coming down...which means this precious Keep of yours won't be standing long." He turned to meet all of our gazes, his head held high. "Don't bother trying to repair the gate mechanism - I took a look at it earlier, and it was much easier to destroy than I thought."

My heart was crying out like a dying thing, and the Sword in my hand seemed to echo the sound, keening in my ears. There, in the light of the rising sun, he had the audacity to meet my eyes squarely with his own. His expression was one of resolution, and his voice, when it came, was quiet. "You'll see the wisdom of this in time. The road to the winning side is always open, Harper."

And with that, he turned, and ran, through the gate and into the surrounding forests, dissappearing like smoke on the wind.

A lookout's voice broke through the resulting silence. "The undead are advancing!"

Kana's worried voice broke through the haze in my mind. "Captain...your orders?" She sounded near frantic.

Zhjaeve was at my side. "_Kalach-cha_," she whispered. "Though I cannot heal what wounds you so, you _must _focus your will on the task, or we are all lost."

"Kana," I said; my voice was even, colder than steel. "Tell the men to be strong, and we shall yet win this day." I nodded, mostly to myself. "The sun has come to our aid."

She sharply began barking out orders. "Form a line within the blockade - let the enemy come to us in the center, where they may taste the steel of our arrows." My companions had all poured into the courtyard, and I gripped my blades tightly as the soldiers that came with them spread out behind me. Khelgar ran up to my side, hefting his axe; he was covered from head to toe in blood. "Aye, this is turning out to be quite the fight!" He grin froze on his face as he looked at me. "What's the matter with you? Someone die?"

Elanee's eyes widened in dawning realization. "Where's Bishop?"

"Gone," I said steadily, my eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Kana!" The lookout was sprinting along the top of the wall towards us, his face panicked. "The undead! They don't fear the light!"

"What?!" she said incredulously.

"The vampires, the shadows...all of them!! They're still coming!"

I looked with sickening despair to where the sun was rising, full above the horizon, bathing the courtyard and valley beyond with golden light. Sure enough, the undead were closing on our gates, their steps as resolute as before.

A crackle of lightening and a spectacular exlposion caused me to throw my arm in front of my eyes, painfully blinded. When the light died, a Reaver stood at our gates, striding forward confidentally. "You think dawn favors you, soldiers of Neverwinter?"

_Garius. _ I recognized that voice.

"By my Lord's grace, I can make even creatures of darkness unafraid of your precious "light" with but a few thoughts," he laughed. As if to punctuate his words, a score of undead filled the gate behind him, eyeing us hungrily.

His eyeless sockets aimed themselves at me. "And now, Captain," he said coldly. "You will return my Keep to me."

"I'll see you dead yet _again _before this Keep falls," I spat. A terribly fury was riding in my blood, and I knew I was at my breaking point. "You should have stayed outside the walls, where it's safe."

His voice was thick with contempt. "My Lord still waits at the threshold of this tiny world...but his avatar is more than enough to end you and your army." He raised his arms, and with a swirling of shadows and a terrible wailing that pierced the air around us, a creature appeared; the blackness that formed it was absolute, and it's eyes trained on me instantly, like a bird of prey. It screamed again, and I saw some of the soldiers cover their ears, wincing as the noise shook the very foundations.

My head high, I stepped forward to meet it as is came rumbling towards me. "This time, the Sword won't break."

And then there was nothing to be heard except that horrible wailing as the Nightwalker fell upon me.

o o o o o o

"I'll have to admit, lass," rumbled Khelgar, "You've got panache. I woulda just cursed the beast and lopped it's head off."

My smile felt tired; I sat against the wall, my back resting on the battlements, legs stretched out before me as Zhjaeve slowly but surely healed my wounds. They had been quite impressive; My Sword had made quick work of the Nightwalker, but those claws...I still shuddered at the memory of cold shadow ripping through me. My smile widened at the shock in Garius' voice when Ammon had read his True Name aloud, and then it seemed the forces of Crossroad Keep in their entirety fell on him, nearly finishing him off for good. My face darkened at the thought of him escaping...but with his exit, the undead had begun burning in the sun.

"Captain!" said Kana smartly, walking to where I sat. "The enemy flees!"

"Send the scouts to harry them, but do not engage...we already hold the field." My voice sounded worn and weary.

Nevalle appeared, his face a mask of grime, his fair hair sticky with blood and who-knows-what else. His normally poised and polished appearance was ruined so completely that I nearly laughed. He gazed down at me, pride in his eyes. "You're hell-bent on showing me up, Lady Harper," he said warmly. "We wouldn't have prevailed if it weren't for you."

"How is his Lordship?" I asked wearily.

"His wounds pain him still, but he is stable." He smiled ruefully. "We had to lock his door to keep him from joining you on the walls. He sends his thanks."

"Thank the soldiers," I said, managing a smile. "They're the ones who saved us this day, not I."

The soldiers cheered spectacularly, and the sound seemed to flip a switch inside of me. Suddenly, I couldn't bear the sunlight. "Help me inside," I said hollowly. There was a bustle of shuffling feet, and an arm slid under my shoulders, lifting me up. To my unending surprise, it was Daeghun who supported me. "You never did learn how to pace yourself in battle," he said, mock-scolding. A flash of a smile passed his face before he started walking, and with his help I passed into the Keep, the others following behind, it's stones blazing under the morning sun.

o o o o o o

_She sat on the edge of her bed, fingering the violin bow in her hands. He watched her for a moment; the set of her jaw, the lift in her cheekbones, the straight, pert slope of her nose; in the light she looked exactly as Esmerelle had, in her younger days, and an old sorrow, long buried, struck through his heart once more. She was barefoot, in trews that barely passed her knees, and a worn tunic that was too large for her. She looked up after a moment, and the pain in her eyes was all too familiar, but her mouth smiled at him. "It was a fine sight seeing you, father. I didn't expect you to come back."_

_"I wasn't going to. I changed my mind." He entered her room, deflty pulling a chair over and sitting across from her. "Even I do that sometimes." He eyed to bow in her hand. "That is not from the instrument I made for you."_

_"No, it's not." Her fingers traced the wood delicately. "The one you made was destroyed, high in the Luskan mountains. The dwarf clubbed a githyanki over the head with it." Her voice softened. "But it saved my life." She met his eyes. "Bishop made this one for me."_

_"The ranger." His voice was flat, cold. "The one who left you at the gates?"_

_She sucked in a ragged breath, and he was mildly horrified at the tears that spilled out of her eyes. "Aye. That would be the one."_

_He had always regarded her childish tears as a mild irritation, in her youth. He had taught her what he had learned, the hard way; that one couldn't avoid emotion, but displaying them would bring nothing but weakness. But now...as he watched her wipe her eyes furiously, ducking her head from his view, he merely felt immeasurable sadness._

_"Aye, my daughter," he said gently. "It hurts, does it not?" He reached out and clasped her hand in his own. "I know of it, all too well." He sighed as her fingers intertwined with his, her eyes looking up into his face. "Loss is...not something I was ever well-equipped to deal with. I was taught to merely accept, and move on, for all things would balance out in the end. But Shayla..." he was surprised at how his voice broke, even now, at the sound of her name. "My life had been a long road of dangers and suffering. Of loss. My period of time with Shayla was a time of such peace, such...contentment. I could not accept that she had been taken from me. All that I had grown to learn of balance, of wrongs and rights, didn't make sense anymore. I had suffered too much; why had the one, bright thing I had been given been so brutally taken away?"_

_She was staring at him, spellbound, and he realized this was probably the most he'd spoken to her at any given time. "Do you blame me for her death?" she asked._

_"I...do not." His voice was firm, and he gripped her hand when he said it. "I could have, had I chose to. But I did not know who to blame, or if there was any one thing to blame at all, merely the fickle finger of luck that you so ardently worship." He sighed. "But I have...not been the father I could have, either. I hope in time, you will, if not forgive me, at least understand."_

_She smiled. "I'll see what I can do." _

_"And as for your...human," he said. "They have always been a fickle race, torn by loyalties that change as quickly as the tides." He watched the sadness rise in her eyes. "Love, however, is not fickle...your heart may heal in time, and it may not. But there is a power in such things, and however you choose to use it, know that simply having it will make you stronger." He released her hand, brushing her hair back lightly before turning to go. "Rest well, daughter; Na llie varna."_

o o o o o o

Evening is falling; a page knocks on my door, just as I buckle on the last few peices of my armor. "Captain? Aldanon is ready for you."

My eyes, red-rimmed though they are, are dry as I nod to him. "I'll be there shortly."

My few personal belongings...the things that I feel truly are mine, and not "Captain Harper's," are tucked into the small pack I carry between my shoulder blades; inside a delicately carved violin rests with a similarly crafted bow. I scrawl a note out onto a piece of parchment; I have been writing most of the day, and the tome that I've created sits neatly on my desk. As a finishing touch, I bind the pages together with twine. The note, I fold neatly, scrawling "Daeghun" on the top flap, before setting it gently on the desk, resting on top of the tale I have spun with ink and quill.

The door shutting behind me rings with a note of finality as I leave, walking to where Aldanon awaits with my companions.


	27. Fractures

The swirling magic subsides around us; darkness is everywhere, barely illuminated by the unearthly glow of guttering torches that line the walls, their flames eerily blue. I blink, trying to work past the disorienting feeling that I'm still spinning through space...

"Great," says Qara acidly. "We always go to the _best _places in the realms." She narrows her eyes. "Are you _sure _that tome worked right, Sand?"

The elf is next to me, and I can hear the awe in his voice. "Yes, it did. But without knowing the exact location where the King of Shadows is..."

"As I thought. _Useless_." Her voice is practically dripping with venom.

"The tome worked, Qara," I snap, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice. "This is...just as close as it could get us, it seems."

She whirls on me, her green eyes flashing, dangerous. "And maybe Aldanon chose to send us here. Or Sand! Or...who knows! Maybe it was _you _and Sand, tricking us into coming here!"

"Enough," Ammon's voice is barely a growl. He gazes around us, his voice subdued when he speaks next. "The ancient wards of Illefarn are still in place, after all these years. I fear finding the King of Shadows will be harder than I thought."

Neeshka snorts. "Hard? It looks to me like there's only one place to go, and that's straight ahead."

"Aye, she has the right of it," I say, eyeing the darkened path before us warily. "I don't think he's trying to hide at all."

Casavir's voice rumbles over me; he is farther away from the torchlight than the rest of us, and his face is in shadow when he speaks. "And I think we have not yet had our final say with the King of Shadows' allies..." His voice drops dangerously. "Garius or Bishop."

I suck in my breath sharply, eyes narrowed. "What makes you think Bishop is _here_?"

"It does not matter what you believe, any longer." I catch a glimpse of blue eyes in the darkness, gazing at me sadly. "He has shown his true nature, at last." _And your belief in him was for naught, _are the unspoken words that writhe under the surface. He looks away from me. "If we meet him here, then he will finally speak the truth. Perhaps, even then, you will still believe his words over mine." The edge of bitterness in his voice ensures that any retort I could think of dies on my lips.

"We must be wary of wards and traps," says Elanee nervously. "And we must not seperate."

"Oh...I'm sorry, but I don't think Neeshka heard you! She seems to be...well, not here." Grobnar's voice is high and anxious, coming from waist level, somewhere in the darkness.

Our eyes fixate on the spot where the tiefling had been standing, shadows skittering across the empty floor.

Khelgar grunts in surprise. "She was right here. Did she sneak off?"

"Why would she sneak off, _here _of all places?" I hiss, the hairs on my neck standing to attention at the sudden chill in the air.

"Know that she has been taken." Zhjaeve's eyes are nearly glowing as she looks at me. "I think we must be on our guard - and our wills must be focused on the task ahead. If we allow ourselves to be divided, in group or mind, then he will win."

"The gith has the right of it," Ammon Jerro's voice cuts sharply through the darkness. "If this is the path before us, then we must hurry, and reach the King of Shadows, while we still can."

I draw my swords, the bade of Gith glimmering brightly; it illuminates the path before us, casting silver light and banishing the shadows that slither along the walls. The ceilings are high enough that my light doesn't reach them, and the blackness above our heads seems to watch us, measuring, as we step through the door at the end of the hallway.

o o o o o o

"Ah. We've been...expecting you."

Sand's voice is incredulous from somewhere behind me. "Three reavers? _Three_?"

"You are powerful, Shard-Bearer. You may be of some use to our Lord," said one, chuckling coldly. "However, you do not need to be alive in order to be useful..."

o o o o o o

His spell burns me, and I can't help but cry out, losing concentraion. The ritual power fails, and I have to begin again, biting back the pain that worms through my head. "Damnit, Ammon! Recite _faster_!" Zhjaeve's body lies crumpled like a broken doll not far away, unconcious, the true name scroll still clutched in her hand.

"... _danouin zaray palakal vanootz!_"

_Impeccable timing_, I think to myself, and my blades crash into the first reaver's body as it's True Name renders it helpless; it dies in a gurgle, and I leap over it's body, rushing to aid my companions with the other two...

o o o o o o

Khelgar falls at my feet, gasping, a deep wound in his back. "By the gods...Harper!"

"Here!" I shout desperately, fending off the last of the reavers as it tries to dive low and finish the dwarf...Ammon's voice is reciting so fast that he risks stumbling his words and ruining the entire recitation, but the syllables come out clear, clean, and exact. "Get behind me!"

The dwarf does so, dragging himself on his stomach; I try to supress the panicked nausea that fills me at the sight of his gaping wound. Casavir thunders past me, throwing himself bodily into the thing, and I open my mouth to use my last ritual spell...

And suddenly it is finished. The Name is recited, and the reaver is roaring in pain and despair, crumbling to nothing before our very eyes.

I fall to my knees, hands poised over Khelgar, my weapons laid down on the floor. The words to a healing spell fall from my lips like the notes in a song, and I see the slashed skin mending before me. Casavir is reviving Zhjaeve; Qara is standing off to the side, breathing hard, while Sand helps Elanee to her feet.

"Are we all still alive?" pipes Grobnar."

"For now." Qara eyes the gnome distastefully. "I wouldn't bet on your chances, though."

"Why, how thoughtful, Qara. I feel the same about you!"

I glance sharply at the gnome, somewhat surprised...but he radiates oblivious innocence. Still...

"We are close," intones Casavir grimly. "I can feel a dark, unholy presence, very near to us. " He eyes the huge, double doors in front of us warily. "Whatever is beyond, we must be prepared for it."

Everyone is more or less healed, and they stand, eyes trained on me. I nod firmly, swallowing the fear rising at the back of my throat. "Let's finish this, then."

o o o o o o

I stride in, making my steps bolder than I feel, my Sword a beacon of brilliant light, surrounding me in an aura of silver. Neeshka is kneeling in front of the portal...when I notice her, I move to her side; there are numerous cuts, gashes, and burns along her body

"I waited for you..." gasps Neeshka, pain in her voice. "I knew you'd come.

"Know that I shall attend to her wounds," mutters the githzerai, raising her hands to cast a spell...

"Garius..._tortured _me," she says haltingly, and sighs in relief as her wounds begin to close and dissappear. "Tried to get me to turn on you, of all things." She gives me a weary smile. "Obviously doesn't know us very well, huh?"

"Look out!" Khelgar throws himself in front of all three of us, brandishing his axe, and a crackle rips through the air.

He stands there, his skull grinning, as the after-effect of the spell subsides. Shadows seems to twist and writhe around his feet, like hungry dogs begging for scraps.

"Ah, Garius," says Sand in disgust. "I thought I heard the shadowy slithering of cowardice incarnate."

"I'll have to admit, I'm impessed," says the reaver before us, his eyeless sockets burning with cold fire. "But really...what did you think you'd accomplish, by coming here?" his voice becomes colder, menacing. "You have done much to disrupt our war efforts. But you will answer for it - and you alone."

"Alone?" I feel the presence of my friends behind me, shuffling closer to where I stand, and I nearly smile at him. "I think not."

"Oh, your companions? For them, I am prepared to offer mercy." His voice is low and smooth, rich with persuasion. "You led them, you ordered them. I spoke at some length with your friend Neeshka here... and with others you have traveled with."

My heart nearly stops at that, but I narrow my eyes. "They wouldn't betray me."

"Ah, but you have already felt the little fractures that have been slowly growing in your group." His head turns, briefly, to where Qara and Sand stand, and I can't miss the sly note in his voice. "Whether it be paths to power...or simply those who can think for themselves, and recognize the _true _enemy here."

Casavir's voice is colder than death. "Bishop."

And he is there, walking from the shadows; he wears the dark, shadow-marked armor of one of Garius' knights, the kind that has graced many fallen enemies in our campaign. Corpses that he and I had made, together. He meets my eyes, and there's a calm there that strikes my heart like a dagger. "My debt to you is over, Knight-Captain." He chuckles bitterly. "Little _vanima'lindo_. For what it's worth, I almost kept going for you, right to the end. But your Uncle, this war, those people...some things that are too hard to get past. Even.." and his voice breaks; he looks away from my stare. "...even with everything else."

"Don't _do _this, Bishop." The part of me that is still Knight-Captain Harper sneers in disgust at how broken my voice sounds in my own ears.

"I can't _help _it," he says through gritted teeth. " Getting tied down... even to a feeling for someone, just isn't my style." He laughs, then, almost painfully. "The most frustrating thing about it? When I met you, I was thinking it would be as easy to hate you as I did Duncan." His eyes meet mine, once again. "But I don't... at all." He sucks in his breath, and the calm is back in his eyes, two dark pools, smooth as liquid glass. "But see, that's the reason it's going to end like this. I'm not going to be tied to anyone or anything again..."

"Can you at least tell me _why_?" I ask helplessly, and Garius' voice intercedes.

"Oh, do go on, ranger; we have some time before our Master arrives, and then none of this will matter." The reaver's voice is chiding, patronizing, and I catch a flash of anger in Bishop's eyes as he glances at Garius. Zhjaeve whispers in my ear, "Know that Garius is stalling, hoping to distract you until the King of Shadows arrives...we must not wait any longer..."

A wave of my hand cuts her off. Bishop looks back at me, his voice cold and even. "Duncan...he saved my life once. Found me outside my burning village, nothing but dead Luskans all around." He rubs the back of his neck, looking at a space on the floor in front of him, his voice hollow. "Thing is..._I _was the one who burned that place to the ground. And all the witnessess...they were dead. Then, Duncan comes along, and I'm too wounded to do anything, barely living. I can't silence him, and he _knows _I'm the one that did it. And instead of killing me like he should have, he saves me, drags me out of there, says I _owe_ him in that stupid, half-joking voice of his..."

A horrible realization dawns on me, and I can feel my eyes widen in disbelief. "The Mere...Redfallow's Watch...that was _you_?"

"Aye, and a grand place it once was. Luskan's loved to raid it, dragging any able-bodied boy off with them and recruiting them into their Death Squads." He makes a flourishing, mocking half bow. "Didn't know that I was a Luskan Assasin, did you? Trust me...the 'training' they put you through would have had even _you _wishing you were dead and burning in the abyss, rather than be one of them." His voice grew quiet. "Their initiation ceremony, the last step in training, was to massacre a Neverwinter village. I chose my own."

"Your own...that makes no sense! Your _home_?"

"They did nothing!" His voice rises in anger. "Just _watched_. My own _father_..." He practically snarls the word, like a curse, "...cowered in our house while his only son, barely a child, was tied like a prized hog and thrown over the back of a Luskan warhorse." He seems to remember himself, and inhales slowly, deeply, that calm settling over him once more like armor. "When I came back, the squad I was in came with me, to watch my _handiwork_. They were camped at the edge of the village; I set fires around their perimeter, and the town as well, and just let it all come circling in. And they burned, like sheep in a corral." I nearly flinch at the cold satisfaction in his voice. "They deserved it; every last one of them; deserved death." He gives me a rueful, half-smile. "And I suppose I did, as well. Poor ol' Duncan...he shouldn't have saved me. But he certaintly played out that debt, enjoying it..."

"So because Duncan saved your life, you're going to take mine?" My voice is harsh, angry.

He narrows his eyes at me. "No telling what Duncan told you. All this time, all he had to do was send word to Luskan that _I _was the one that killed off their squad at Redfallow's Watch, and I'd be dead before the day was out. And then...the first day you entered that tavern, kicking the door open and shouting for your dear Uncle as if the Nine Hells were hot on your trail, I knew you'd be a liability. One more person I'd have to silence." And then he sighs, and shuts his eyes. "But you were the hero; there was no cold-blooded murder, no silent dagger in the night, for you. I would have been dead by morning had I tried it. And it just kept getting more and more complicated...a keep, knighthood, a damn bloody army...and that damn _voice _of yours..." He shakes his head, and there's a fire in his eyes when he looks at me next. "I'll admit...you'd make a half-decent hunter. You almost had me snared, well and truly."

While he is speaking, there is a growing darkness...a tangible, oily blackness to the air that seeps from the portal in front of us. I vaguely register it, but I can feel my companions shifting nervously behind me. My fathers words are echoing in my head. "Sometimes two people caring about each other...it is _strength_, Bishop, not weakness."

He scowls, cruelly, but his eyes are sorrowful. "Say what you will...it doesn't matter, in the end. After this, I'm free and clear." His voice is dead, even and calm. "After the King of Shadows rolls across the Coast, none of this is going to matter."

"And it is time, I think, that we prepare you for his entrance," Garius' voice cuts through the air like a blade, and our eyes fall on him. "You have one who stands before you, willing to think on his own. Do you think all your companions who follow you, would follow you to death?" His laughter is cold, cruel. "I think not."

"I would die for her, for Neverwinter, without hesitation," comes the fierce retort from Casavir.

Elanee moves to my side. "We are all here, are we not? I think you underestimate us, Garius."

"From the Weeping Willow Inn to here, I've followed her, followed her _gladly_, and there's no way in the hells I'm backing down now." Khelgar is still in front of me, his axe held crosswise across his body, as if to shield us all behind him from the entirety of Garius' power, all by his lonesome.

"Know that the choice is a simple one, Garius." Zhjaeve's calm, deep voice ripples past my ears. "If you fight us, you fight us all."

Garius turns, that blackened skull aimed at Sand. "You...you are awfully quiet, little wizard." I hear Sand shift uneasily behind me as Garius continues. "Sand... I know you studied at the Hosttower... and what relics you saw there are nothing compared to the ones that lie here, the secrets of ancient Illefarn. The power you seek is here... and I can allow you to rectify certain... inequities."

"Yes, well, as tempting as becoming one of the _many _shadow reavers we've already slain _is_...I shall have to pass." His voice is biting, dripping sarcasm, and I smile slightly at the sound of it. "Not much future, you see - for you, _or _them." His voice warms slightly. "Besides, the little girl here... she needs minding, else... well, else bad things could happen to us all. And I will not allow that to happen."

Garius nearly seems angry...he turns to Qara, and there is a low desperation in his voice. "Ah, and then comes the matter of restraint." He steps foward, and we all tense, lifting our weapons as he speaks. "I can feel your indignation, Qara - your power rolls off as your anger grows... as those weaker than you claim to understand you, when all they want to do is drag you down."

Qara steps up to my side, and I feel a surge of triumph...and then she keeps going, moving to where Garius stands, turning to face us. "I'm tired of her, and all the rest, telling me what to do and how." Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles coldly. "I'd like to see how you fare while my fires are melting that armor of yours against your body, _Shard-Bearer_." She snorts derisively at my shocked expression. "Traipsing around like you're something special, saving the world, when _I'm_ the one with true power."

Sand sighs, somewhere behind me. "The girl has become a child, and now, Qara...you are our enemy. "

"And Ammon Jerro," says Garius, his voice almost sympathetic. "The infernal contracts, the hordes of githyanki...both, easily broken, with the power of Illefarn behind you. And even your dear Shandra can be returned to you, the life that you missed replaced; in time, you could know of her again."

Ammon steps forward; his heavy hand falls on my shoulder as he speaks. "You could promise all that and more, but for all your empty promises, I have seen the one I follow _accomplish _so much more." His voice lowers, growling dangerously. "And Garius... for mentioning Shandra to me, I shall enjoy watching you _die_."

Garius ignores him, muttering an incantation, and we all bristle, tense, as he lifts his hands; a barrier shoots up around the portal behind him, and the very shadows along the walls themselves take shape, crawling towards us, placing themselves behind Qara and Bishop. He chuckles at us. "Just a precaution to protect our Lord from the bloodshed; after all, he is almost here." He steps forward, a spell crackling between his hands. "Too bad you won't be alive to witness it."

o o o o o o

I cut down yet another shadow, kicking my way across the room to where Sand and Qara are tossing spells; the elf's face is grim and determined, but even I can see that he's losing, slowly but surely. I am nearly halfway there when a hand grabs the back of my collar, yanking me backwards. I stumble, fall, roll over my shoulder, look up...

Bishop stares down at me, his eyes cold. "They'll be no heroics today, _lindo_," he says sharply. "Just death."

He comes at me, his blades swinging downward, and I block his strike easily, pushing away and scrambling to my feet. "Is this what you want?" I stand there, breathing heavily, as he circles around me, swords at the ready. "To simply trade one master for another?"

He growls, lunging at me, and we lock blades, the clattering of magic steel ringing in my ears as he pushes me back, away from the others. I sidestep a particularly nasty swing, the Sword of Gith flashing brightly as I parry his blades with my own, and for a moment his eyes are boring in to mine. "You're not even _trying _hard," he snarls.

"Neither are _you_!" I shout desperately, and he shoves me away from him, the sound of our swords sliding together grating against my ears. "There's no reason for you to _do _this!" I duck again as he swings for my head, and kick out at his knee...he stumbles, and I dance away instead of using the oppurtunity to strike at him.

He gets back on his feet, his face furious. "_Attack _me, damn you!" With a near-roar of wordless anger, he charges me, and I'm violently pushed back against his barrage of twin swords. The wall meets my back, breaking my concentration, and before I know it, his blade is at my throat.

The near-intimate closeness of his face to mine is more than I can bear. My arms sag, weapons falling to my sides, and I close my eyes. "_Amin mela lle'or'dos_," I whisper. _I love you._ "Don't do this." When I open my eyes again, he is near frozen, intense agony filling his eyes. "Just _leave_, Bishop. Walk away."

Garius' voice breaks through the cacophony of battle. "Kill her, ranger!" I can hear his steps, pounding the floor like thunder as he moves closer to us. "I command it! You _will _kill her, _now_!"

In a blink, the look in his eyes changes. The blade lowers from my neck, and he turns; the cocky, arrogant tilt to his head is all too familiar as he sneers at the reaver from across the room. "You know, Garius...I just wouldn't _dream _of stealing that pleasure from you. After all, you really don't need _me_, do you?" He walks forward, away from me, and the knot that had been tightening in my chest loosens suddenly, my breath releasing in an exhale of relief. His voice carries out over the room. "I think it might be best if you stopped having people stand between you and the Knight-Captain here - Torio, Lorne, your reaver friends..."

Garius voice is cold fury at it's best. "You will die here if you leave, Bishop. I will come for you when I am done here."

"Garius..." he shakes his head, chuckling. "When you're _done _here, it'll be because your sorry, sad carcass litters the floor." He turns, and glances at me, then. His right sword-hand moves to his forehead, in a mocking half-salute, but his eyes are serious, pained. "_Tisi ento commae, vanima_." And he turns, striding off into the darkness to the echo of Garius' frustrated roar.

o o o o o o

He was weakened, dying; we closed around him, the remnants of shadows and undead creatures scattered across the floor behind us. Qara stares up into nothingness, her dead eyes blank, blood staining the front of her robes from where Khelgar's axe had near cut her in twain. Casavir limps...the shadows were strangely attracted to his pure aura, and he has struck down most of them on his own. Zhjaeve's breath comes raggedly as she surreptitiously attempts to heal us. Ammon Jerro stands next to me, a pillar of finality, his face drawn and grim, as my sword flashes down; the light dances along it's edges, almost in glee, and a song ripples through the air, pure and exhultant.

With nary a sigh, Garius dies under my blade.

And a moment later, before I can draw another breath and taste the victory on the air, his barrier around the portal collapses. With a thunderous rumble, the gateway flashes to life.


	28. The parting glass

_"The Parting Glass" - traditional irish music_

o o o o o o

The sound of crashing magics and the screaming portal have me on my knees; my hands clap over my ears, weapons clattering to the ground beside me. The light leeches from the room, torches sputtering out around us, and a terrible pressure rises in my chest as the sword resonates, feeling the presece of it's enemy close by. Zhjaeve's words echo through my head: _Once the Blade gets a taste of the enemy, it will not rest until the enemy lies dead at it's master's feet... _

He steps out from the portal, and we rise to our feet as the shaking floor finally subsides. His armor shifts and slithers around him, like the shadows on the wall; no eyes stare out at us from under the blackened, horned helmet, carved like the face of some strange beast. The darkness that folds itself into the shape of the creature we see before us is absolute, liquid blackness. The light from my Sword merely brushes it's surface, unable to penetrate.

"It is you." There is no mouth, no face to mark with an expresison; his voice is deep and resonant, intelligence and power rife in it's nuances and tone. "I know why you have come. You would deprive this land of its Guardian."

"What do you _guard_, that all life must be destroyed in your path?" My voice sounds small, insignifigant after hearing the rumble of his.

"I was created to be the guardian of an empire. I do what I must to protect and preserve it."

"But you aren't protecting this land, you're destroying it!"

Khelgar snorts, muttering ruefully, "Even now, she tries to sweet talk her way through this..."

"Even such denouncements are a threat - if you believe Illefarn lost, you must be cleansed with the rest." He seems to inhale deeply, and suddenly the darkness spreads around us, thick and grasping. My Sword flashes once, twice...

"Use your powers from the ritual! If anything can stop him, they can!" Ammon is preparing a spell next to me as the dark thing reaches out...

o o o o o o

I struggle for breath; the amount of magical energy passing through my body has every joint and muscle straining to hold together. But he keeps rising anew, every time we strike him down, and I place my hand on a statue once more, calling on it's power once again...

As soon as I touch it, the King of Shadows rises yet again to his feet, and blasts my companions away from him. Realization strikes me. "The statues..." I turn, my blades striking the stone before me, sparks flying; bits of the brittle masonry crumble to the ground. "Take down the statues! They're keeping him alive!"

o o o o o o

I see Zhjaeve fall beneath a wide, devestating swipe from the his claws. She sprawls across the ground, arms and legs splayed like a scarecrow.

Grobnar rushes to her, crying out her name, near wailing it to the ceiling. He's knocked back as another spell blasts through the chamber, his head cracking like an eggshell against the last statue that still stands.

Casavir bends toward him, his mouth forming the words to a healing spell, but Ammon's sharp, commanding voice stays him, and he turns, lending his arm once again to the destruction; the agony on his face is almost unbearable.

Khelgar is next to me, refusing to leave my side; my silver sword flashes again and again through the air as I fight the King of Shadows, wounding him, distracting him, _anything_, to keep him occupied. The dwarf's attacks do little against the beast, but he fights with me, still.

When the last peice of stone falls to the ground, oh, how we hear it; a small piece, barely large enough to cause any sort of damage. But the noise echoes throughout the chamber, and I feel the difference instantly. He writhes in pain, ribbons of blackness falling away from him, armor unravelling and dissipating before our very eyes. We step back, eyes wide...as he crumbles, a deep rumbling fills the chamber, and even as Casavir runs forward and throws his arms around both of us, knocking us to the ground, a spectacular blast of magical energy explodes, shaking the room. I peer out from under the paladin's heavily armored chest...the King of Shadows is gone.

But this time, the shaking doesn't stop.

Elanee screams, "The door!" But even as we turn to look, part of the walls collapse, blocking our escape. In that instant, I see fate catching up with me like a raging bull bearing down, and I'm almost manically amused as I shout, "_Perfect _timing! Does anyone _else _want to point out any other escape routes, so _those _can collapse as well?"

"Unfortunately, I think that's the only one!" shouts Sand, blasting a particularly large piece of ceiling; small pebbles of masonry shower our heads briefly, but too many stones are falling thick from the celing. I feel one strike the paladin lying above me, feel his body shudder, hear his breath rush out of his lungs in a painful exhale. Khelgar and I drag him to his feet; a dent marks his backplate, and his face is ashen.

"We've got to find another way!" Ammon shouts over the noise, and I see him move to Zhjaeve, picking her up onto his shoulders.

"No _shite_! I thought ye were smart, warlock!" Khelgar cracks his axe at another chunk of rock that nearly crushes him. Elanee scoops up Grobnar in her arms like a child and runs over to us, her face panicked.

The collapsing portal behind us fills the air with a high keening noise, and we're all knocked off of our feet once again as another blast rocks the room. "Damn it!" I shout. We back up towards the portal as another side of the chamber wall crashes in; we were being herded, relentlessly, into the center of the room, and I knew without saying that when that portal collapsed, the explosion would snuff our lives out in the blink of an eye.

Ammon's eyes meet mine. He nods at me once, imperceptibly, and I know he is thinking the same thought.

Neeshka flinches as the portal behind us rumbles with an air of finality. "We're not going to make it, are we?"

"We've done what we've had to," says Casavir, quietly. "We've won."

I catch movement on the other side of the portal; standing between two quaking pillars is a dark figure, seemingly unaware of the chaos around it. It steps forward, and my heart heaves a sigh between my ribs; Bishop watches me from where he stands, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The portal's light increases to an almost painful brightness, but I can't tear my eyes away from his face. I stand still, even as my companions huddle around me, watching as stones fall around the ranger; even when one crashes to the ground next to him, he doesn't flinch. Those eyes are on me, piercing, and always watchful...

In a shattering of noise and light, color and shadow, the portal collapses, exploding.

And there is naught but darkness.

o o o o o o

_Bevil coughed politely before entering the office. Kana looked up at him from the desk, an arch in her eyebrow. "Yes, Sergeant?"_

_"Daeghun left, Captain."_

_She didn't even blink. "I see." She rubbed her eyes wearily, setting the quill down gently on the half-written parchment in front of her. Not that she expected the elf to stick around, once she had been promoted and the Keep put into her hands. It had been so quick...barely half a ten-day, and they had already given Harper up for dead. Just last night they had pinned the captain's bars onto her uniform, as if to say __Yes, we're glad she saved us, now can you please take charge so we can get back to normal again? "Does Sir Nevalle know?"_

_"Yes, he does," said Nevalle, stepping in behind Bevil. "I just went through his quarters; he left some time this morning." A cloth-wrapped, rectangular object was under his arm, and he set it down heavily on the desk, a cloud of dust rising into the air._

_Her nose twitched as she plucked at the cloth, bemused. "And this is?"_

_"I found it on his bed." He pulled a crumpled note from his shirt pocket. "And this, as well. The first half's in elvish, I can't even begin to make heads or tails of it, but that last part...well, I just think you should read it."_

_Bevil had interposed himself behind Kana's desk, and pulled the fabric back, revealing a neatly bound stack of parchment, fresh ink on the pages. He frowned as he began flipping through them. "This is...everything. She starts it at West Harbor, and it goes on..."_

_Nevalle watched Kana's face as she read the note. Her eyes had become unusually bright, and she blinked rapidly as she set the note down, meeting his gaze. "We should read it to the men. Some of them still think she's coming back."_

_"You should read it to the men. I have to return to Neverwinter with Lord Nasher." He reached across the desk and gripped her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "You'll do fine, Captain." His voice was quiet. "Send us word if any...for any reason." She was struck by the deep sadness in his eyes. It had affected them all; Kana wasn't used to seeing the Captain's suite empty, and didn't have the heart to move into it herself, so she still slept in the barracks with the other officers. Nevalle had spent the past five days wandering the keep, telling the soldiers how brave they were, that they had done a great service to Neverwinter and it's people, anything but mentioning the names of those who were now gone. She had noticed on her rounds of the walls that the sentries never seemed weary, or sleepy, or bored, and always, their gazes were more often than not fixed to the south._

_She watched silently as Nevalle left, and glanced at Bevil, who was reading the tome on her desk with rapt concentration. Her mouth twitched in a slight smile, and her voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Sergeant, I need you to gather the men in the courtyard; every single one of them who is not presently on guard duty. Tell them I'll be with them, shortly."_

_He performed a quick salute and nearly dashed out of the room. She stared at the tome on her desk, closing it gently. The top page, scrawled in the bard's flowing, elegant script, merely read "__Kallo' Hinue." She'd have to ask Aldanon what it meant, if he could align his brain cells properly long enough to explain it to her. Her eyes fell once again on the note, sitting like a crumpled leaf on her desk. Nevalle had been right, the first part was all gibberish to her, but there'd be no translating that; the note had been meant for Daeghun, after all. But below it, were verses, scrawled neatly in common, and off to the side a few bars of music, written as if in an afterthought. Maybe she'd find someone to play it for the men..._

_Oh all the money that e'er I had, I spent it in good company  
And all the harm that e'er I've done, alas, it was to none but me  
And all I've done for want of wit to memory now, I can't recall  
So fill to me the parting glass;  
goodbye, and joy be with you all_

_Oh all the friends that e'er I've had, they are sorry for my going away  
And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had, I'd wish them one more day to stay  
But since it falls unto my lot that I should leave, and you should not  
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call;  
goodbye, and joy be with you all_

_A lass may drink and not be drunk, a lass may fight and not be slain  
A lass may court a handsome lad, and perhaps be welcomed back again  
But since it's been so ordered by a time to rise, and a time to fall  
Come fill to me the parting glass;  
goodbye, and joy be with you all._


End file.
